Banana_Mjlk

“Long night?” Kento asks softly, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused expression on his face.

You sigh, nodding. “You could say that, thank you for the coffee Nanami! I owe you the next one.”

You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper chic, sort of Gojo’s vibe. Yet instead of him eyeing her, he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all,” Nanami says, clearing his throat. “Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know, smiling and leaning back.

“We don’t really get birthdays,” he mumbles, running a hand over his face.

You grimace, sipping the coffee again. “No we really don’t, but thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looks disgusted as he shakes his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as he walks off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, how could his spoiled ass walk a few steps!? No, you must go to him.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, trying not to roll your eyes, tapping your pretty glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“Meet me in my office, sweetheart. Now.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was just a constant source of annoyance for you.

You clear your throat and plaster on a smile. “Coming, Mr. Gojo.”

You smooth down your cute little office dress, if you had to be miserable you’d at least be presentable about it! You’re adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office, lit bright by the sun, peering in the door way to see the bane of your existence.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the very top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, these hints of bergamot from his cologne, it was all something that was very distinctive to Gojo.

He may be a little shit but he smelled good.

He also looked good, reclining casually in that leather chair, his signature dark blue Gucci sunglasses on, round ones that are covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciate, because they were so damn pretty it made it hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant you weren’t immune to those baby blues.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

Satoru taps his fingers on his abdomen, just resting there on that dress shirt all casually, long fingers you had no business looking at for too long. “Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all,” he smirks all arrogantly, and you have to grit your teeth not to just crash out on this man. “You have two meetings today, sir. One for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that,” he says with a little sigh. “I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.”

Oh fuck no.

Not on your birthday.

You shut the heavy door behind you, resting your aching head against it for a moment and shutting your eyes.

“I asked for tonight off,” Gojo scoffs at that – this little fucker scoffs, grinning, flashing those damn fangs like some vampire, all glinting from the sun that beams in. “I am not going.”

“No?” He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“No,” you hate how he makes your heart race when he’s in front of you.

“I'll pay you well, sweetheart – plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit, get paid to have some fun, drinks and food, dancing…”

“As your date?” You ask, pursing your lips a bit.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario,” he grins like he’s bestowing the finest gift on you. “Don’t fall in love tonight.”

“Psh,” you roll your eyes. “Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially a date with me. I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy,” well fucking ouch. “I need you, little law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too, so it’s a no brainer.”

Not eye candy.

Men flirt with you pretty frequently actually, on the very rare occasions you’re not working you’ve had quite a few ask you out. You know you’re a pretty girl, but of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to try to even attempt to look like a model. Shit, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty, is that what you're saying?”

Satoru pauses then, frowning at you.

“What, no? You're very pretty,” he'd never said that about you – HR and all. Though he’d banged damn near all his assistants besides you, Satoru barely complimented your work let alone your looks.

Him calling you pretty really fucks you up, you have to catch your breath, looking up at him, curious how he had suddenly gotten just an inch away.

Sneaky ass.

“‘Not eye candy,’ isn’t that what it means?”

“Well no, that’s not what it means, just you dress kinda boring,” you blink again, as he digs himself into a hole. “No like…just all businessy and shit? You don’t dress sexy is all. I mean… not that you have to, I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit.”

You snort at that, shaking your head – you loved clothes, and to dress up, but of course he probably wouldn’t know that. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work for you.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks,” this man… “But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.”

Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted, and they always worked – You were almost immune to that.

You take a breath for courage, it’s about time you said something, especially if your plan is to go. “It's my birthday and you want me to work overtime?”

Gojo frowns. “Birthday?”

He looks utterly confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient. “Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you carefully. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe,” you do look young but then, so does Satoru. “But it’s actually my third birthday here, and you have never given me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have some big plans, hot shot?”

No. Sure don't. “Yep.”

“Cancel em,” he shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl. “What? Need me to cancel them?

“No! I won’t.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments, before flickering back to your face.

“No? What do you mean ‘no’?”

No one turned Gojo down – no one ever told the gorgeous, manchild of a CEO the word ‘no’ to anything. His six-foot-four frame bends over just a bit as he places an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features, eyes lidded just a bit. you glare back up at him.

“Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday,” he gasps, all affronted.

“What, then have fun with me! I’m fun!”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm,” he tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact and what it makes you feel, your tummy clenches up. “I'll make it fun, I promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

You are gonna fucking agree, aren’t you?

“Gojo, I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too,” you offer, he shakes his head, leaning too close.

“You're my best, sweetheart, I need you by my side.”

Bastard. Not him batting his pretty white lashes.

You sigh. “Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a shaly breath as he backs away. “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that!?”

“Why not?” He’s sticking his hands in his pockets now, grin widening. “I'll have a brand new outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this event.”

“Probably not…” You’re not turning down free dresses from Satoru Gojo’s rich ass. “Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks, like he’s touching your body. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?”

Fuck.

Your cheeks heat up at his little assessment, the way it feels like he’s brushing his fingers over your body – though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a pussy, and it reacted to him in ways that make you irritated. Satoru just chuckles deeply, turning away and waving a hand.

“You're dismissed, sweetheart. See you tonight.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just…

Work.

No you weren’t doing anything – but you could have cuddled on your couch! Not had to mingle and spend a night with Satoru Gojo of all people.

You rush out all irritated, downing your now cold coffee and cursing that blue eyed man.

****

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh,” you grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup.

If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it – lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your pretty white day bed. You open it finally, the pretty black gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of the little shit Gojo himself. You gently pull out the gown and hold it up, and almost all of your irritation dies off.

Fuck if he doesn’t have good taste.

Black and decked with sequins, it glitters in the light, it was a silky fabric, soft as a caress against your skin. You undo the little zipper and peer in the mirror, sliding it on, it glides over your curves perfectly, coming to cinch in at the nip of your waist. The neckline was slutty dear lord – it plunged ridiculously low in fact, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work.

The question was, how did Gojo know your damn measurements?

Pervert is what he was.

A pervert with good taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was as if he truly knew every measurement you had, better than if you’d went and tailored the damn thing.

Well at least you get a pretty dress for your pain and suffering!

You spin to look at the back of the dress in front of the mirror, it dips daringly low as well, exposing the smooth expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel super pretty in a dress like this.

You rummage through your little jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress, and deciding on a pretty silver necklace and earrings, something simple. You’re clipping the earrings on when a text pops up.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, when another text blings.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…

Fucking Gojo. Ugh.

You: Coming now.

You lock up and head down the stairs of the apartment building, and see Ijichi Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was one year younger than you, that boggled your mind more than Nanami only being one year older.

Geto and Gojo wore people out.

If you didn’t have a great skincare routine, Gojo would make you look old too.

“My lady,” he says sweetly, and you smile at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head resting back so that his throat was exposed.

His head snaps down, and he looks right at you, no sunglasses, only those pretty  blue eyes, the pouty pink lips parted. You tense, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one, but he’s quiet – blinking those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shuts the door, his gaze taking you in ever so slowly.

Achingly slow, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trails off, shaking his head a bit.

How does Gojo say how good you look?

Since when is Satoru Gojo tongue tied like this? And he is tongue tied, you’re so pretty tonight he can hardly catch his heart from racing, so effortlessly beautiful always in your business suits, but he’s never seen you like this. Twenty sixth birthday and he came up with excuses to make you come with him.

Yeah, Satoru knows it’s your birthday.

He came up with the idea to ‘need you’ like the selfish little shit he is, like he comes up with every idea ever, random things he knows damn well he can do himself, but why would he? When he can look at his pretty assistant constantly, hear her angry sigh and smell whatever body spray she has sprtized on her?

Satoru Gojo was a dick, and he knows it.

“Thank you for the dress,” you say softly, as he just… stares.

“Of course, consider it my birthday gift,” he smirks then, as if he’s composed himself. “You look…”

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Ethereal.

“Really fucking hot.”

Really Satoru, can’t come up with anything better?

You giggle at that – not beautiful or breathtaking, but would that really be something Gojo would say? No, you’ll take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you suddenly, ever the sneaky little jerk, and you tremble a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you, as your boss ya know.”

You roll your eyes and snort. “I can’t dress like this at work, Gojo.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so,” his fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sends tingles through your body, making you even more irritated at him. Why is he so close? “I’m buying you an entire new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are, I like to be professional, unlike you,” you smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grows cold without the touch, goosebumps laid out in a network across your skin.

“You do really look good,” you take in his outfit, a black tux which fit his slim muscles perfectly – It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear at one of his charity auctions.

Maybe Gojo was some rich superhero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too,” you murmur softly. “You always do.”

“I know,” Satoru winks at you as you roll your eyes.

Conceited ass Satoru.

He’s leaning forward to snatch up champagne, brushing against you far too intimately, you hold your breath and jerk just a bit when he pops it, pouring you each a pretty flute full. You take one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, sipping the tart drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious,” you lick your lower lip and find him a breath away once more. You don’t move, but you’re frozen in place, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asks then, his voice breaking, eyes gone dark. You have never seen Gojo like this.

You blink just a bit, taking a breath. “Uh… how did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl,” he gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? What the heck, Satoru… Yes I was thinking of it, and seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny.

Fuck Gojo – not literally.

His eyes study your own seriously now, jaw setting. “If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.”

Your breaths come faster, every word was pouring like honey from his tongue, his hand tightening in your hair, yanking your head back ever so slightly to look up at him – making your mind race.

Imagine him pulling it when you…

Satoru’s imagining it right now, pulling your hair as you suck his cock down your loud little mouth, fucking your throat till it’s sore and you can’t talk the next day. Filthy images as the strands card through his fingers, and you scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists against his chest, on the material of his dress shirt.

God you’re pretty.

“Oh, would I?” You challenge him, god you always do, notching your chin up a bit, Satoru laughs without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office, hmm?” You swallow nervously, eyes narrowing. “How many have you had to send home for me? You think I don’t know how to fuck you dumb if I wanted to? Think I couldn’t rail your pretty cunt so hard you squirt all over me? Oh sweetheart, you wouldn’t even be able to walk when I finished with you.”

Gojo’s filthy fucking whisper was against your lips, it’s goddamn diabolical how he talks, you could taste the champagne sweet on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucks on, your mouth almost salivates in his proximity. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him, those images running rampant.

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it!? You don’t want me anyway. Not your type,” he snorts at that, one of his big hands on your waist, touching the bare skin on your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?”

“I sure do,” his thumb brushes underneath your breast, an action that makes your nipples tighten, aching as they press against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down, noticing the peaks and humming to himself.

“The women who entertain me,” his fingers move in little circles against your ribcage, eyes shooting back up to yours. “They aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm,” it’s difficult to focus, you sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. “It doesn’t matter, you’re just talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightens, and it makes you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any, I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, tugging at it. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know,” you scowl up at him. “Guess what? I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

Satoru scoffs and your fingers itch to smack him. “As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit,” you grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time to make any! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slap him then. Slap your Boss.

Slap Gojo Satoru.

His hand catches your wrist, long fingers wrapping it tightly, pale cheek just blooming pink from your mark, your hand stings from the hit, breath making your chest rise and fall as his lips curve down.

“Ring a little true, sweetheart?”

“I can get fucked if I want, any time thank you very much,” you yank your hand back and shake it out.

“I didn’t say that, clearly you can get fucked,” his voice deepens, as he imagines all the ways he’d have you. “It’s just you don’t even want to, and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type to fuck around.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time,” Gojo’s eyes widen at that, brows raised. “Yep. Sure would, he’s handsome – oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would, so does that answer it for you?”

Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears as the blood rushes through at the statement, and Gojo’s grip on your waist tightens. “You would fuck… Nanami Kento?”

Ah, you made him mad – Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot,” you shrug casually, smiling all fucking mean at him now.

“Out of anyone in the office?” He asks, voice quiet – this side of Gojo no one ever really sees, when he’s utterly jealous, unhinged and insane.

You make him this way.

“Mmhmm,” you answer, then he smirks.

“Including me?”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a man…

Look at him, who wouldn’t?

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand catches your chin, forcing your gaze to his.

You swallow nervously, licking your lips and drawing his attention to them. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No… not including you, fuck is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffs. “You’re childish.”

“Me, childish!? You are!” You shove at him again, and he lets you go, you take a greedy breath and down more champagne. “It changes nothing, I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better,” his voice sounds so damn hurt – it sounds sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downs his own glass and looks away from you.

“You think what, fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot, I’m the best fuck there is,” you scoff at that, Satoru just shrugs, some of that casual, conceited demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen,” you say firmly now. He smiles.

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…” Fuck him.

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words,” you scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by, setting down your drink and crossing your arms.

“Are we there yet?”

He laughs now. “See? Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm, or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag,” you gasp at his audacity, turning back and seeing his mean little grin.

“I do not! And I am not stuck up!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You feel your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks that fall a little too perfect.

“Oh, do tell, pretty little assistant,” he practically purrs those words, leaning forward. “I’m dying to know how.”

“Cut the shit, Satoru,” you roll your eyes at him. “You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off on women, or in their mouths…” He shrugs like the little slut he is, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!” You hiss.

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe,” you blink, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.”

Gojo lifts your hand, ridiculously small in his own grip – the man has five inch fingers or more, you swear, and the touch alone is ruining you – the sight of your hand swallowed by him.

“They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper is so damn cocky, you can’t stand him.

Can’t stand thinking of his fingers inside you.

You’re breathless, as he holds out his own hand against yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of men you’ve been with. Likely larger than the couple of dudes in college, which was about all of your experience, Gojo’s probably done more in a night that you have – slutty ass CEO Nepo baby that he is.

“I… you…” You want to cuss him out, quit right then.

You should quit!

You also want his fingers inside your now soaking wet cunt.

Fuck him.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood,” his hand takes your own, putting it right between your thighs, making you whimper. “We don’t have to fuck for that, there are so many ways I can keep my pretty assistant happy.”

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You manage to breathe out, but you have no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. – because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to fuck your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant,” Gojo’s plump lips kiss down your jaw, his hand gently pressing yours against your soppy little cunt over those panties, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already so hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

You bite your lower lip, feeling your own fingers led by his brush over your soaking wet panties. “F-fuck off…” It’s a whisper, a pathetic one at that – you want it, and you hate him.

You hate that your walls are just pulsing around nothing, that your clit is eagerly twitching against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan of your name from his lips against your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came.

Gojo slides his own finger against your panties for a brief moment as he moves yours – pausing, moaning again in that slutty way he does – pulling back to look at you.

You’re so fucking wet, all Satoru can do is imagine burying his face, letting you use him – every time he pisses you off you could push him to his knees and spread those pretty thighs, You could make him lick, kiss, taste your pretty cunt as his endless apologies, as he drags his fingertip higher, and uses his more than yours, he watches you.

You were so gorgeous like this.

“Fuck,” he whispers, something was just different about you. Gojo with women was always so self assured, but something about touching you has him vulnerable, when his long finger presses against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. “Sweetheart…”

He shouldn’t talk like that, look like that, you’re arching your hips up, and his fingertip is running up up slightly, pressing more firmly, your hand grips his collar, tugging him close. You’re dumb to do this, to roll your hips and whine all needy, watching as his eyes go black.

Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady,” Kiyotaka’s voice has you both realize the limo had stopped.

Fuck.

You two shoot apart, and you struggle to catch your breath, adjusting your dress hastily, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo turns and adjusts his pants, tugging his cock up into his waist band so he wouldn’t have a bulge at this damn event – not even looking at you.

How can he look at you without sinking to his knees and begging you to coat his face right now?

He turns back and clears his throat, you curse softly when you finally notice his tie is all fucked up.

“You can’t tie properly, Satoru,” you murmur, leaning over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it until it’s perfect. You notice his Adam's apple bob up and down, and he’s shockingly quiet, just looking at you.

Gojo Satoru, quiet.

“There,” your hands linger, your eyes darting up to his lips once more.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, and your eyes meet, the two of you at a loss for words in the quiet of the limo.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opens the door, exposing you both gratefully to some cool night air, and you get out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

loves i'm dying to hear what you think ahhhh! ofc i'll always love the original and keep that up but I'm excited for this <3

Big yawn and an even bigger stretch eased your pain. It was dark, late at night but you were still working on the research. As a journalist at a famous newspaper you had to sacrifice your sleep from time to time. You never complained, though, because you loved your job, your coworkers and surprisingly you had a wonderful boss. 

Supernatural stories of yours made into a series in the magazine. Your readers loved your work and nudged you for a while to come up with something about vampirism. Weeks, even months have passed and you kept searching for any proof of their existence.

As you were walking down the street you felt like someone followed you. The bit of a rainy night, the chilly wind and your lack of sleep made you think your mind played a game with you. 

The key slid easily into the lock and heard that clicking sound before opening your front door. As you stepped in you took off your shoes and placed your umbrella into its holder a funny feeling rushed through your body.  “I’m so tired.” you mumbled as you walked into the living room and turned on the lights. 

Crystal white hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes greeted you. Instantly you froze in your action as the shock took over your body. You wanted to scream or run away but instead you stood still without a slight move. A few seconds passed when you grabbed your phone in your pocket and tried to dial the number of the police. Before you were able to hit the call button the device simply disappeared from your palm. Your eyes widened and your lips parted. 

“I’ve heard you were looking for a vampire.” the raspy voice broke the tense silence and you snapped your head to the unknown man. The second you noticed your phone in his hand you frowned. “Okay, this is interesting.” you thought to yourself. 

“Who are you?” you breathed heavily. “What do you want? Why are you in my home and how did you get in and…” you kept shooting all the questions without a break. 

“Easy.” he chuckled. “As I said I’ve heard you were looking for a vampire, so  thought I would visit you.” 

Insanity? Probably. But you walked slowly to your desk, grabbed your laptop and placed it on the table before you took a seat right in front of the unknown handsome man. “I swear I’ll be so ashamed if he’s going to kill me.” you thought.

“Are you trying to say you are one of them?” you frowned.

“I’m not trying, I am literally saying that.” he smirked and flashed his fangs slightly. Your eyes widened and you gulped big. 

“Well, I might regret this but would you give me an interview then? First you could start with your name…” you clicked your tongue but regretted it instantly. Maybe giving an attitude to a vampire wasn’t the best idea. On the other hand he just chuckled and nodded. 

“I’m Gojo Satoru, nice to meet you.” 

After a few minutes of basic and boring questions, such as how old is he, where he comes from etc, you asked him about his past. Gojo surprisingly answered every question you asked him. He talked for hours about his home, he described the centuries he lived in with so much detail it amused you. 

“You’re telling me you were turned in the 1700s?” your eyes widened. 

“Exactly. It was a messy night. I was drunk and reckless and blinded by those big, fat boobs.” he cleared his throat. “I mean I was tricked…”

You pulled a slight smirk while shaking your head a bit. “Power of the boobs.” you whispered.

“You know I can hear you, right?”

“Sorry.” you felt as the blush crawled upon your face.

After talking about the 1700s he stopped out of the blue.

“Why did you stop?” you looked up at him confused. You noticed him staring at your neck like a beast gazes at its prey. “Uhm, it would be a shame if you killed me now.” you tried to hide your nervousness. “You know, before I publish your story and all…”

“I would never hurt you, darling.” he growled. 

“Will you continue? I think we just got to the end of the 1700s.”

“No, not tonight.” he slowly stood up and pushed back the chair. The confused look on your face made him chuckle. “I won’t tell you everything at once, so I can see you tomorrow night too and the day after.” he smirked. 

You blushed from head to toe, you had no idea what was gotten into you but this crystal white haired man definitely had an effect on you. 

***

The next night you were more eager than you expected. You were sitting in the living room waiting for the vampire. Excitement and fear were mixed in your mind and you had to admit it was going to be harder to handle than it seemed in the beginning. Sweaty palms rested on your thighs, slightly squeezing your own flesh and hoping to ease the tension. Then like a flash of light he appeared in front of you, sitting on the chair lazily once again. 

“Shall we start?” he crossed his legs as he laid back in his seat. 

The upcoming nights seemed exactly like this. You were sitting and waiting for him. There was one thing, though, that kept changing night by night. The feeling of enjoyment. The euphoria he gave you every single time he appeared in your home. You started to feel more and more comfortable around him. He never even once showed any sign of threat, he always acted polite and gentle and maybe he flirted a bit but you weren’t sure about that. 

The realization hit you hard when you noticed it was supposed to be the last night you met him. The story, his story, was about to come to an end. You didn’t want that at all. 

“Hello, beautiful.” he greeted you with his typical sweet smile, flashing his mesmerizing blue eyes at you. “Before we start I have a question I need to ask.” 

You nodded without any words. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he said it as if it was all natural to ask.

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened.

“I like you and you like me too.” he shrugged.

“How do you know that I like you?” you raised one of your eyebrows.

“Oh, drop the act, sweetheart. I can hear your heartbeat. It speeds up the second you see me, whenever I smile at you or compliment you. Oh, just like now. It’s really sweet, you know.” he kept teasing. 

“Okay, okay, fine. Stop it, please.” your cheeks became as red as a tomato. 

“I take it as a yes.” he chuckled as he reached his hand out for you to take. 

***

There was a huge ferris wheel in the city with cabins which seemed like the perfect place for a date. While you were sitting in it he told you the rest of his story. The way he got into this city and how he heard about you. You tried to focus on his words, you really did try but couldn’t take your eyes off his pinky rose lips. The single thought of feeling his lips against yours drove you wild. Gojo noticed it and playfully made a joke.

“You should take some notes, darling. but you can taste my lips later, if you still want to.” 

Suddenly you choked on the air and cleared your throat. “I wasn’t looking at them like that.” you snapped back. But you both knew it was a lie. You were definitely looking at them like that. 

Satoru leaned so close you could smell his minty breath. “You sure?” he whispered. His words sent shivers down your spine and you lost it. With one quick move you grabbed the back of his neck and crashed your lips against his. His lips tasted just as you imagined if not even better. The second you felt his tongue entering your mouth a soft moan escaped you which encouraged him to keep going. 

After a few sloppy kisses the ride ended you had to leave the cabin. Satoru kept silent but frowned his fingers with yours and you walked to a park hand in hand. 

Billions of thoughts were rushing through your mind when you arrived at a bench and you decided to sit down. The charming vampire kept talking and talking, adding bits of details to the story to be full. A slight smirk crawled upon your face as you started to draw little circles into his palm. Satoru read you like a book, he knew what you were thinking about.

“Are you really sure about this?” he leaned so close he was able to lick your neck. 

“Please!” you begged as you tilted your head a bit, giving him more access. 

At first it felt painful and weird but just a second later the uneasy feeling was replaced with joy and pleasure. You couldn’t help but moan into the night as he kept sucking gently on your neck. Everything happened so quickly you didn’t even realize when it was already over. 

Not even a single drop escaped, he savoured all of it. Maybe the adrenalin, maybe the lack of sanity but you wanted to kiss him more than anything. And so you did. You kissed him. It was a sloppy kiss, an aggressive one and you still tasted your blood on his tongue. 

Even if you were ready to spend the night with this charming vampire he appeared to be a gentleman. 

“We should stop before I lose my control, darling.” he broke the kiss and laid back a bit. 

“What if I want you to lose control?” you teased as you bit his lower lip. A dangerous growl escaped his mouth. His super speed allowed him to take you home in a heartbeat. 

He thought back to the first time he met you. A brand new barista at his favorite overnight cafe, seemingly hand picked for him. Your sparkling eyes and dazzling smile drew him in, but your irresistible smell is what trapped him. Like warm cinnamon and honeyed apples, already nostalgic to him even if it was his first time experiencing the smell. He was hyper aware of the fangs in his mouth, the need to sink them into whatever was producing that intoxicating smell threatening to overtake him. He felt like a cartoon character drawn to a fresh pie on a windowsill. Your voice sounded damn near angelic. He could still remember the poetry you relayed to him, the first words ever spoken between the two of you. Words he'd treasure forever.

“Hey, I like your glasses!” You smiled, definitely being nice to him because you liked him not just because you wanted a tip. He almost blushed. His glasses- round with red lenses- were more for utility than they were a fashion statement, or something he even liked wearing. They hid his eyes, making them appear to be intensely blue rather than the bright red they really were. Still, if you liked them he’d wear them until the inevitable heat death of the earth. 

“Oh, thanks.” He chuckled nervously, giving you a tight lipped smile. He didn’t want to freak you out with his…condition. At least not yet. 

“No problem man, what can I get you tonight?” It was then and there he decided you would be his one day.

And it was here and now he decided one day was today. He stood up on his branch and leaned against the trunk of the tree. He watched as you did your regular bedtime routine, going to sleep safe and relaxed, knowing your prince charming was coming to take you to his castle tonight. He knew you were on the same wavelength as he was. He knew from the friendly smiles you gave him every time he came into your cafe, from the way you spoke to him as if he was an old friend- with trust and understanding.

Like, when you first started talking about your boyfriend for example. At first, he thought you were trying to discourage his affections, hint at him to go away. But, he quickly came to his senses. You were his one true love, and he was yours, why would you try and throw that away for some mortal asshole? It wasn’t hard for him to figure out that you were asking him to take out the trash. 

He remembered how pathetic that boy sounded as he pleaded for his life. It disgusted Satoru that he was able to get so close to you. You deserved someone that could defend you, not some child that cried the moment things got dicey. You deserved him, Satoru Gojo. No one else would do. Still, it was an honor to take care of this chore for you, even if he wished it had been more of a challenge. He was glad to have taken on the task. It reaffirmed his love for you, and the desire to give you what you deserved. 

The lights in your neighbors windows finally went out, assuring him that no one would try to be a hero if you decided to play hard to get. He waited another hour to make sure everyone was asleep before he dropped out of the tree, taking on his bat form and flying to your window. He turned back into a human, catching himself on your brick windowsill. It was around now he realized he didn’t exactly think this through, but- it’s fine. It’s fine! This is true love, this is fate, things were going to work out. Probably. 

He pulled himself up, balancing with one arm on the thin ledge and opening your window with the other. He smiled when he found it unlocked, confirming that not only were you on the same page as him, you were waiting for him. Good girl. He slid into your studio apartment, and immediately had to brace himself against a wall. It was overwhelming just how much this space smelled like you. It made sense, of course, you spent more of your time here than anywhere else. He expected it to be rich with your smell, but he didn’t expect it to be so intoxicating. He could feel his fangs buzzing with the need to feed, and his body flush with lust. He was down right giddy at the realization that soon, his home would smell like this. 

But he had to get you there first. He straightened up, coming to his senses as he turned took at your sleeping form. He felt his chest tighten with affection. You looked so peaceful when you were asleep, softly snoring and completely content. You looked ethereal in the pale moonlight, snuggled under your fluffy blanket. If he saw a picture of you like this, he wouldn’t believe you were real. Which, is saying something cause he’s, ya know, a fucking vampire. 

He strode over to your bedside, gently running the back of his knuckles along your angelic jawline. “Rise and shine, beautiful. It’s time to go home.” He whispered softly into your ear, his rich voice filling your mind and causing you to stir.

“Mm- wha..” You muttered softly, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation in your groggy state.

“Come on darling, our bed is waiting for you at home.” He cooed again, taking your warm hand into his ice cold claws. 

“Wha..wait, Gojo?”

“You can call me Satoru. Or Love, that would work too.”

“GOJO?!” Oop- you were awake now. You ripped your hand from his, scrambling to get away from him. So you were going to play hard to get. “What are you doing in my home?!” You demanded. He tried to push back his annoyance. 

“Darling girl, this isn’t your home.” He gently reminded you, “Your home is all the way on the other side of town, with me.”

“Oh, fuck That!” You yelled, grabbing your bedside table lamp, a heavy porcelain antique, and smashing it across his head. To your credit, if he wasn’t a supernatural being- that would have really fucking hurt. If he didn’t know you were just playing, he would have thought you were actually trying to injure him! But, even if you were just playing, he couldn’t let violence slide. 

“Now now baby girl, Is that anyway to treat your lover?” He asked, pulling you into his arms with a speed that you quite frankly could not comprehend. His grip was impossibly strong too, not only rendering escape out of the question, but making it hard to breathe. You could feel bruises forming where is fingertips met your flesh, and bile rise in your throat. 

“I’m not your fucking lover Gojo-”

“Darling, please it’s Satoru to you.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” You snapped, trying to wiggle out of his grip, despite the futility of it. 

“Crazy for you Babygirl.” Oh great, not only was he out of his fucking mind, he was going to be cheesy about it too. 

“Let me go!” You demanded, trying to thrash but only managing to squirm. You tried kicking him, but it was about as affective as performing CPR on a corpse.

“I will, as soon as we get home.” He “assured” you. It was then you realized he was leading you to your open window. Oh no. Oh no no no no no! Was he going to fucking kill you?! Was home the afterlife?!

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You screamed, clawing as his arms and struggling against him in any way you could, “Gojo-”

“Satoru.” He was starting to lose his patience with your insistence of using his family name. 

“Motherfucker, we are on The. Fifth. Floor. You’re gonna kill us!”  Ohhhh riiight, You were human! You had never flown before! Of course you were freaking out, the first flight is always a little scary. He reminded himself he needed to be more sympathetic with you while you were adjusting, and mentally berated himself for forgetting in the first place.

“Don’t worry darling,” He said, sitting on the ledge and holding you even tighter to his chest- if that was possible, “I won’t let you fall.” He said before promptly falling back first out of the window. You don’t know what was louder, the sound of the wind rushing past your ears, or the screams ripping from your throat.

And then the wind got softer, as if you weren’t falling but-...You looked up to confirm your suspicion. Gojo was holding you on his chest as coasted through the air, looking as relaxed as he would if he was on an inner-tube on a sleepy lake. You suddenly understood what was happening.

“Oh, I’m dreaming!” You all but laughed at the realization.

“It is a dream come true, huh?” He smiled, “I thought we might share dreams.” You rolled your eyes at him, but noticeably relaxed. If you were dreaming, that meant there was no danger. You weren’t flying through the air with a sociopath that was trying to kidnap you, no. You were at home, safe in your bed. In the morning, you would throw away the expired clove in your pantry, and watch The Lost Boys as this fucked up dream slowly seeped out of your mind. All would be well.

That was the thought you were clinging onto as he landed in the lawn of an old southern gothic mansion on the edge of town. You were familiar with this property. The kids spread rumors of it being haunted, overrun with ghouls and ghosts and all things that go bump in the night. Most of them wouldn’t go up to it’s front door, even on Halloween night, with the promise of candy hanging in the air. They believed that once you knocked on the door, your days were numbered. Even the adults spoke about it in hushed whispers, sharing conspiracy theories about who the home owner could possibly be, and why no one ever saw them. Many assumed it was abandoned. 

And now that you were in the front lawn, you understood where all the fear came from. The house was overwhelming, a dark aurora clinging to it and a sense of dread radiating off of it. But, you were dreaming! You couldn’t be hurt! You let Gojo lead you into the front door with zero fear, knowing that you were impervious to danger at the moment. 

Inside you were greeted with a surprisingly warm interior. The outside seemed more like a defense mechanism now, like a bug that disguises itself as a much deadlier creature, when in reality the bug was harmless. Antique table lamps bathed the room in warm light, The red vintage wallpaper making the old black furniture look inviting. The class and elegance of the home put you even more at ease. Leaving you vulnerable. 

You didn’t even notice the amount of locks he was locking behind you, or the fact that some of them required a code. “Welcome home darling,” He said as he finally finished securing the million latches, returning and wrapping his arms around your waist, “What do you think?” He purred.

“It’s…cozy.” You said. It was, in it’s own weird way. “I always wondered what the inside of this house looked like.” 

“Well, it’s yours now, so feel free to make any changes you want.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. You felt a chill as his cold lips pressed against your skin. Your brain may have known it was dreaming, but your body didn’t. You still felt shaky, your heart was still racing, and your palms were still clammy. Your body was in super-hyper-defense mode. Which, was to say you felt like you were seconds away from a panic attack. He must have noticed the blood draining from your face.

“It’s late darling. The grand tour can wait, let me show you to our room.” Oh, good idea. If you slept, you could wake up in your bed and get this dream over with. You nodded and let him lead you up the ornate, spiral staircase, and down the hall to the master bedroom. An absolutely massive room that matched the living area, only instead of red it was a powder blue, A truly extravagant bed was the center piece of the room, a large canopy hanging over it. You noticed there were no windows in the room. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any windows at all, other than in the living room. And even still, they were boarded up.

“Thanks for the room, I uh…I think I’m going to go to sleep. You can go now.” You told him. His laugh sent a blizzard through your body.

“Go now?” He cackled, “Darling, this is my room too.” He said gently, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “We share everything…” He leaned down and pressed his nose into the juncture of your neck, taking a deep breath and getting lost in your scent. He felt you try to push him away, but you would have had an easier time trying to push Mount Fuji over. 

“Gojo, I-”

“Satoru.” He growled, “For the last time. My name, is Satoru.” He very gently reminded you, gripping you tighter and digging his long black claws into your side. You gasped from the pain, feeling drops of blood leak from you new would. You felt the pain. You felt pain.

You weren’t dreaming. You weren’t dreaming.

 You felt a sharp icy chill rip though you as he dragged his cold, slimy tongue along your neck. “You smell so decadent my love.” He praised. You lost your words as you felt him run his hands under your sleep shirt and up your bare skin. His chilled fingers left frigid trails along your body, reminding you of where he had touched- where he had violated. Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your throat, and your stomach turned as he pressed your hips into his, making it painfully clear just how happy he was to have you here. 

He could smell your blood leaking from your side and it was clouding every other thought he had. He hadn’t fed in weeks. No one else was worth it, no one smelled nearly as appetizing as you. Every other disgusting mortal tasted rotten to him now, and no matter who he chased they were never you. They may have had your skin color, or your eye color, but none of them could hold a candle to you.

But he had you here now. His darling, his world. His perfect meal. And he was fucking starving. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.” He purred, dragging his fangs across the thin skin on your neck.

“N-no, don’t-!” Your words turned into a scream as he dug his fangs into your flesh, your scream dying in your throat as he bit down. You felt his sharp fangs pierce into you, opening up your veins and letting the blood flow freely for him. You felt his cold tongue collecting the very crimson that give you life, greedily feeding on you as if you were the finest meal he had ever had.

Probably because you were. The flavor of fresh apples and salted caramel spreading in his mouth and through his being, making his cold body buzz with your warmth. You tasted better than he had ever imagined. He roughly grabbed your hair, tangling his claws in it as he pulled your head to the side, giving him more room to feast. It restarted your nervous system. You found your will to fight again, thrashing in his grip and trying even harder to push him away. He growled at your sudden insolence, forcing himself away from your throat.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look in his eyes. “Why do you insist on fighting me, Love?” He groaned. You realized he wasn’t wearing his normal glasses, and his eyes were still as red as the blood currently flowing through you. Fuck, how could you have been so blind? You tried to break away from his grip again.

“Because you’re a fucking monster!” You snapped. Well that was harsh. He didn’t want to do this so early on in your living with him, but really you left him with no choice. “Let me go!” You demanded again.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, his eyes burning into your very soul. “You want to be here.” You watched as his eyes changed. Red irises now ringed with violet, then gold, then violet again. It was so…mesmerizing.

“No I-...” Your words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. You could feel your brain filling with fog, the edges of your vision becoming a vignette. Slowly you could feel the ice he filled you with melting from your body, leaving you feeling something much warmer instead.

“Yes you do. You’re my girl, of course you want to be here with me.” He purred, a soft smile looking so misplaced on his bloodstained face. “You do want to be with me, don’t you Y/n?”

“I do.” N-no. No that's not what you meant to say. What the hell?

“Then why are you trying to fight me?” Because he’s a fucking creep that stole you out of your bed and was now practicing the ancient art of BLOODLETTING on you!

“I don’t know.” No! Why weren’t your words matching your thoughts?! Why couldn’t you say what you meant!?

“If you don’t know Darling, then there's no point to it. I don’t want to hurt you my love, please don’t force my hand.” he sighed, cupping your cheek in his palm. You wanted to jerk away, but you felt your body lean into his cool touch. It felt nice against your warm cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You absolutely were not sorry.

“It’s okay Beautiful. I know how you can make it up to me.” His grin was wicked with ill intent as he returned to your neck, licking at the blood flowing there. You could feel your body temperature continue to rise, what was once almost pleasant slowly becoming unbearable. You whined softly at the unpleasantness of the heat.

“You’re warm,” He noted, running his cold hand along your side. The ice he held wasn’t unwelcome anymore. Now it felt like the cool waves of the ocean on a hot summer day. You felt you head nod limply at his obvious observation. Of course you were warm, you were on fire. 

“Let me help.” He whispered, pulling your shirt over your head. You’d think being exposed to the cool air in this drafty mansion would have helped your situation, but you felt no change. You didn’t feel a change when he slipped your bottoms off either, and you almost whined when he pushed you onto the bed, the fluffy fabric of the blanket making everything worse. 

And then his lips were on yours, like the first chill breeze after a heat wave. More, more, you needed more. Your hands fumbled with his shirt buttons, struggling with numb fingers to fit the brass through the holes. Finally, after undoing three, you gave up and ripped the shirt off over his head- possible ripped fabric be damned. 

“I knew you wanted me darling,” He grinned, your eagerness to have him undressed fueling his undeserved sense of confidence. You didn’t care though, because his skin was finally on yours. His chest pressed against yours, you finally felt some sense of relief, like putting aloe on a bad sunburn. You moaned softly as he trailed kisses from your jaw to the wound on your neck, still bleeding but much slower now. He gently sucked on the dripping injury, and instead of pain, you felt euphoria. You moaned softly, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the building pressure.

He gave you a tight lip smile, red covering his lower face, as he moved down on you, spreading your legs. His grin grew once he saw what you were working with. He knew it would be pretty, he had imagined it more than a few times while fucking his hand- chasing a high he knew only you could give him. But honestly, he didn’t think it would be that pretty. You noticed his lack of commentary just in time to find out why he was keeping his mouth shut.

He leaned down and spit your own blood out and onto your cunt, making an already pretty pussy prettier. You were embarrassed to say you moaned, but the blood chilled by his mouth felt do fucking good on your burning body. 

“God, you’re a freak.” He laughed, showing blood stained teeth. “Yet another thing we have in common.” He cooed as he massaged the sangria into your clit, sending waves of euphoria through your body. His hand moved down, slowing tracing your entrance before slipping a long finger inside, quickly followed by a second. 

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped as he curled his fingers up inside of you, gracing your g-spot with an expert precision. You felt your hips buck up against your will, reacting to him in ways that would have made you nauseous in any other state. 

“You like that Darling?” He asked with a smirk, curling his fingers again and again. You whined softly, chasing the chill of his touch. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You grumbled. You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and stop touching you, but at the same time that was the last thing you wanted him to do. It felt like his touch was the only thing that could regulate your body, not to mention the fact that it just felt so fucking good. 

You were sure whatever he did to you was causing this heat, but you had also never been this sensitive before. His every movement sent waves of electricity through your nervous system. Your body craved him in way it had craved no one else before, responding to him like it was made for him. You felt a cool pool of pleasure forming in your stomach, your body buzzing with desire and anticipation.

He bit his lip as he felt you clench around his fingers, and immediately he had to feel that clench around his dick. He pulled his hand away, placing his two fingers in his mouth and sucking them clean, eyes rolling back at the sweet taste. You whined at the loss of contact, hips bucking in search of the pleasure they were robbed of. You wanted to cry, the frustration of a lost climax clouding your already cloudy brain. “Noooo!” Was all you could manage to say, and god did you sound pathetic saying it.

“Don’t worry Darling girl,” Satoru chuckled as he pulled out his cock, “I got something even better for you.” You watched as he pumped his dick, the angry red tip looking so much redder against his pale skin. He rubbed his hand over the leaking tip, using the fluid there to slick himself up. You wouldn’t say this about a lot of guys, but you thought even your normal brain would be able to admit he had a pretty dick.

A pretty dick he was about to shove into your soaking cunt. You bit your lip in anticipation as he lifted your hips up to meet his. “Ready pretty girl?” He purred. You nodded an aggressive affirmative and he almost laughed. “No no Beautiful, with your words. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you!” You whined, hearing your voice but not your words again, “I want you so bad, please. Please I need you, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore, until I can’t think straight, I want to be ruined for anyone else, please!”

“Atta girl,” He praised, finally pushing into your needy cunt. He shuddered as he did, your warm velvety walls enveloping him and pulling him deeper than he realized possible. He almost came right then and there, like an untouched virgin, but managed to contain himself. Your moans weren’t doing him any favors, but you couldn't help it. He felt like a snowstorm inside the inferno that was your body, controlling the fire that raged there and finally giving you some relief. The stretch stinging at you was just an added bonus.

“You feel so fucking good Darling,” He praised, pulling back and slowly pushing himself back in, perfectly rubbing against your g-spot. You curved your back in pleasure, electric waves of euphoria crashing into your body, and quickly dragging you back to the edge. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” He cooed, “My perfect meal, my perfect fuck toy, you were designed to be mine.” He moaned, tangling his fingers into yours as he looked you in the eyes, painting a scene of what he thought intimacy looked like.

“Fuck, you feel so good Satoru..” You moaned, cunt fluttering around him as your climax quickly approached. Something in his brain switched. Before you fully understood what was happening, you were folded into a mating press, his cock reaching places inside of you you weren’t even sure were possible to reach. Your veins felt like they were full of smoke and your entire body felt like it was made of stars, ecstasy exploding inside you every time he moved. 

“Say it again.” He demanded.

“Satoru!” You yelped, honestly a little pissed off he expected you to talk now.

“Again.” He demanded, pumping into you with a vengeance.

“Satrou!” You whined, digging your nails into the pale flesh of his back, dragging your nails and leaving angry red claw marks in your wake. 

“Who do you belong to Y/n?” He asked, eyes burning into your again. You knew the answer he wanted. You clenched your teeth and sucked on your tongue. You used any willpower you had left not to say it. He may have taken your body, but you couldn’t let him take you. 

“Come on Darling, answer me. Who do you belong to?” He prompted again, this time coupled with the perfect thrust of his hips, lining up perfectly with your sweet spot, and using a free hand to rub your clit. The wave of lust and pleasure that overtook you washed away any willpower you may have had left.

“You, Satoru.” You whined, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“That’s right darling,” He grinned wickedly as he licked at your neck wound, letting the blood flow over his tongue. “You’re fucking mine.” He started pounding into you with a vengeance, and you felt the strings in your stomach start to snap. Your entire body tensed up vision went white hot as galaxies exploded inside your veins, euphoria crashing into your body in seismic waves, making your cunt quiver from the after shocks. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton and you could feel your thighs trembling around him as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Satoru I-” You tried to communicate but couldn’t get the words, your already altered brain turning to much and leaking out of your ears as he fucked you through your high. His was close, he wouldn’t be far behind. The way that your cunt fluttered around his cock mixed with the pretty sounds you were making were frying his own nervous system, and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look with his cum dripping down your thighs. 

“Y/n,” He panted as he pounded into you. Your eyes met his. You lifted a shaky hand to push his snowy hair out of his face and he was done for. The small intimate act leaving him gushing deep inside you to the point of overflow. “Fuck I love you,” He moaned as he fucked you through his high, “I Love You, I love you so fucking much.”

He all but collapsed on top of you as he finally finished, pulling you into his cold chest. Your body temperature finally felt normal again, and you could feel the effects of his hypnosis slowly wearing off. He noticed too, and kissed away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry Darling, did I overwhelm you?” He asked, genuine concern filling his voice. You wanted to scoff at the question, but choose to keep quiet instead. You were locked in his house. You had to play his games now to stay alive. He took your silence to be an affirmative.

He never came back and you never heard from him again. Yes, you tried missing person reports and all sorts of things in that nature but, alas, no results.

Which brings you back to now as you sit here asking Google very important questions like, "Do vampires cum to the taste of blood?"

While that does sound like a strange thing to be typing into your search bar, it’s October—kinktober if you’re on the right side of the internet—these questions are of utmost importance! Last year, you did a search or two on werewolves and how they work…

Reeling back into the present though, your fingers are tapping away at the keys of your laptop, scrolling and clicking on all sorts of links to find your answer. These are the kinds of activities that keep you well distracted from just how lonely you’ve found yourself feeling lately.

The rest of your house is cold, lacking the warmth of another body, quiet in a way that’d make some people lose their minds, and almost eerily still in some parts. There are rooms you haven’t been inside of in months since those are the rooms Gojo used to frequent most often and you fear that if you walk inside them, the ghost of his charming and brightening presence would still be lingering.

Even sleeping in your bed is hard without him sometimes. It’s the same bed the two of you used to share, after all. The same bed he’s comforted you in with those big arms you swear you could still feel wrapped around you to this day. Everything about Gojo just… lingers around your house.

Sometimes you think you can still smell his cologne in the fabrics of just about everything, which is why you took it upon yourself to bake like crazy on nights like this—hoping that the scent of fresh cookies and pies would flush his scent out of your nose for good.

That only ever worked for so long though. As soon as everything got cold, you’d walk past the chair he’d claimed as his own and feel like you were literally passing his ghost again. You didn’t even know if he was dead and yet it felt like it.

You tried to get over it via distractions like tonight but—like everything else—that never lasted long, if even at all. He was always dancing around in the back of your mind. You’d even find yourself glancing over to your front door, hoping that one day he’d just appear. It was a pipe dream for you at this point, considering he’s been gone a whole year now.

The two of you had even been on the road to getting engaged. You unfortunately found that out when you were cleaning out your previously shared bedroom and stumbled upon a ring he oh-so-poorly hid beneath the bed in some box he thought you’d never get to. Now that? Oh, you were a mess when you found that ring.

It was by far the prettiest piece of jewelry you’d ever seen in your life. So pretty that you have it displayed on your nightstand now as some kind of ghastly reminder of what your life could have been if Gojo hadn’t gone missing.

Sometimes you wonder if he ran off with that best friend of his… Y’know, the one who you only saw at night and always seemed a little too close to your boyfriend? After all, it's not like you could locate him after Gojo’s disappearance either. Maybe they’d run off together.

That was one of the last things you told yourself before really trying to move on. Now your home was more of a mere house than a place of comfort. Every day felt like something was missing and you knew what it was but you continued to distract yourself. Gojo wasn’t coming back and you knew that.

Or at least, you thought you did.

——

About thirty minutes into your very intense Google searching, your oven chimes with a soft ding! that captures your attention, letting you know your pie is done. 

You slip out of your chair and pace over to the appliance, soon opening it and taking your freshly baked delicacy out with oven mittened hands. The warmth seeps past the fabric against your palms before you place the desert onto your counter and something deep in your heart twinges at it.

Satoru loved sweets.

You hated that your only distraction from thinking about him did nothing but pound the memory of him right back into your mind. Sometimes, when your longing gets really bad—like now, for example—you could feel his presence against you.

The way his hands used to trail around your waist, squeezing whatever skin he could before hugging you from behind, and then muttering into your neck about how much he loved you was a burning memory for you. Followed by this was always him tipping your chin up and then pulling your face back to kiss you. The way he’d always smile against your lips still lingers to this day.

It’s been a year and yet all it took was taking one measly pie out of the oven for the tears to start welling up again. You should be over him now, truly. Yeah, you two were together for years but… you have to move on at some point, right?

The task seems impossible though. You’ve tried going on dates and meeting other people but none of them were him. No one talked to you like he did, teased you like he used to, barked out bright laughter and a series of giggles that’d fill up a room just as he did, and—most importantly—no one loved you like he did.

No one could love you the way Gojo did. It was impossible when he was the kinda man who’d give his life up if it meant saving you.

In came the waterworks as your own brain fucked you over. You snatched those mittens off your hands and flung them to the other side of the counter, your body leaning against its edge as droplets of sadness coated the clean surface below.

Just as quickly as you’d wipe them away, they came rushing back twice as hard—just like the fragments of your time with him did.

Your sobs end with you bunched up on the floor a few minutes later, hugging your knees tightly as your back pressed against one of your lower kitchen cabinets. The worst thing about Gojo’s disappearance was the fact that you didn’t know what happened to him.

You didn’t know if he was kidnapped, ran away, or even dead somewhere… Which left a burning hole of unknown in your heart that ached so thrummingly it’d make your chest cave in and leave you numb with a sense of nothingness.

Simply “missing” him was a severe understatement in regards to how you truly felt. His life had been far too entangled with what was once your own that without him, a necessary part of your very being was violently ripped away from you.

Silly Google searches kept your mind at bay for what, an hour or two? Then it was right back to the depressive air that’d made home in the space around your body.

Now you sit alone on your kitchen floor, craving the presence of someone who’d vanished out of your life. 

At every waking hour of the day, everything reminded you of that man. Working, trips to the grocery store, the rare outings with your friends—who found it difficult to spend time with you these days since you were too wrapped in your mourning—and even simple things like watching movies or going on walks.

The distant sound of pattering rain could be heard against the windows of your home and that only fueled the mood swirling about the air. That, and it also leaves you to think about how Gojo would always make light of situations like this.

He’d tell you how beautiful the rain outside was and make you appreciate nature’s natural occurrences more than you ever would on your own. You specifically remember how both of you got each other sick because you’d stupidly run outside in the rain and goofed around together like two love-sick fools.

The following week after may have been filled with nasally sniffles and hoarse coughs but, you mostly remember the cuddles and the warmth that came with taking care of one another.

For the nth time in your life, you miss times like that so dearly.

It takes you a while to push yourself up from the floor and the only real reason you got up was because you’d heard a knock on your front door. You dragged yourself over to it and when you unlocked the door and pried it open slowly, you were met with nothing.

Nothing stood in front of you aside from increasing rain and distant thunder. Your eyes survey your front porch before you step out only halfway to make sure you haven’t received a late-night package or anything of the sort.

When you continue to find nothing there for you, a sigh fogs past your lips and then you enter your home again with a soft shut of your door.

You steadily return to your seat, the scent of baked goods still dotting your house’s atmosphere. The rain outside gradually grows heavier and heavier as the minutes drag on, the sound of agitated water beating against your windowpanes in unrhythmic waves. 

The little candle you’ve got sitting inside your happily carved pumpkin glows and flickers its light faintly against your mostly clear kitchen counter—its softness a complete contrast to the way you were feeling now. While you lug your laptop closer, trying to dive back into those absurd searches, you end up making your way to Reddit and skimming over vampire biology. 

It was kinda funny how you could go from balling your eyes out one moment and then reading shit about vampiric ejaculation the next. But you suppose that’s how a lot of your days have been; sobs one second and something to distract you the next.

Your mouse whirs around your screen for a moment before you hear a clean, gentle set of knocks against your front door again. This time you freeze, barely turning back to stare at the door. It wasn’t as hesitant or faint as the first few knocks had been but, perhaps you were too tangled in your sadness to realize the first time.

It takes you a minute to move. Your mind is still a mess but, you wonder if it’s one of your neighbors' kids messing with you again. After all, ever since Gojo disappeared, the kids who’d grown quite fond of him beforehand do try their best to stop by and check on you. There’d been nights like this all throughout October as well where they’d knock on your door and then run off as soon as you opened it.

You knew they meant no harm by it so it never angered you. Hell, this time they were probably trying to get some early Halloween candy…

Chuckling wearily, you rise from your chair—pulse thumping in your fingertips all weirdly from the flush of mixed emotions swirling around inside you—and make your way to the door. Due to your slow walking, there’s another set of knocking and you sense the impatience oozing off of whoever stood outside, as if they knew you were stalling or something…

You press on your best, fake smile, expecting three kids—Yuji, Nobora, and Megumi—to be standing on the other side of the door eager for some sweets. You had plenty of pie and cookies to share anyway so, them stopping by unexpectedly like this wouldn’t be so bad.

Hand on the doorknob, twisting and steadily pulling it open with your eyes fixated downward, “You guys know Halloween isn’t for another two weeks,” You start off playfully, noticing only one pair of feet below before you begin to crane your gaze upwards, “R-Right…?” Your voice dies out in your throat and the world feels as though it stops.

Your footing shifts back against the floor and your hand leaves the doorknob to come up over your mouth and conceal the gasp that’s stolen from your lungs.

There he was.

Standing soaking wet on your porch as if he’d only been gone a day or two instead of a year, hair a shaggier shade of white from the rain—moist strands clinging to his forehead—and face a soft-set expression of somber. Those familiar blue eyes you only ever knew as sparkling and radiant seemed wracked with guilt and shadows of regret. 

Everything had felt so still in the moment. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as you gaped all wide-eyed and unmoving at who-, or rather, what stood in front of you. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Surely someone was playing a trick on you. Perhaps some really fucked-up prank? 

“S.. Satoru…?” His name, unuttered from your lips for oh so long prior to this moment, comes out as a cracked whine of syllables.

Your gaze doesn’t miss a beat, catching the way his throat adjusts to swallow something down, the same jaw you’d traced your fingertips over in the past now taut with tension. Then his lips part and a soft, “Hey,” works out of him, voice a tinge unlike the tone you remember fondly.

The single word has something inside your chest clenching.

Your top lashes are meeting your bottom ones with quick, uncontrollable flutters as your vision begins to blur all over again, this time too much to fight off. “You-,” Words choke in your throat and your head is shaking, “How are-, I thought you were…”

Making up for the words you can’t seem to say just yet, he creeps forward, just a little. “I know,” Gojo whispers tenderly, hand twitching at his sides to reach out for you. “I know, sweetheart. I–”

“D-Don’t call me that,” Everything was trembling; your voice, your hands, hell, even the clouds seemed to shudder with tears just as you were. Those words stung him just as much as they left your tongue with a harsh sting of reality.

That raw grief and anger that you’ve been harboring for months is consuming you entirely now, spilling into your words, “You disappeared!” You’re shouting, voice echoing out into the rainy night air. “No calls, no texts, no… no anything. Do you have any idea what that did to me? I thought-,” You catch yourself holding back on saying it for a moment but your sentiments get the better of you shortly after, “I thought you were fucking dead!”

Sarcasm presses against his lips as they distantly twitch, the gesture so faint you almost miss it. Even unspoken, you knew Gojo wanted to say how it was obvious he wasn’t dead seeing as he’s standing right in front of you, alive and well. You understood him better than he understood himself sometimes—even after a whole year—so what was unsaid still clung to your ears.

He steps forward again and you inch back, the heavy droplets of rain from his body wetting up your porch as he moves. It’s then that you notice how pale he is. Your porch lights catch him just right and your head tilts a bit, noticing the lack of warmth in his skin tone that felt… completely void of light or… as if the moon engraved itself into his very flesh.

And his eyes—having been darkened from just a few seconds ago—now seem to glint with something deeper and almost uncanny with a crystalline blue that shimmers beneath his white lashes.

Shaking off your overanalyzation of the man, you tell yourself it was nothing more than your grief playing tricks on your mind and making you see things that weren’t really there.

Your eyes were telling you that this was the same man you loved—Gojo Satoru—but somewhere deep in your tethered soul, you knew otherwise. A hallowed shell of the man you once knew couldn’t be standing before you or anything crazy like that, right?

That sounded ridiculous but even with a few words exchanged, something felt off.

“I-I know,” Gojo murmurs finally, gaze drooping down to the floor. Even angsty and wet, his tall frame still managed to tower over your very being in a way that was once endearing but now felt haunting. “And I’m sorry,” He continued slowly.

It was all so sooo sluggish. Every word dragged away from his mouth as if he were stretching each second out to make the rekindling moment with you last longer than it actually was.

He stumbles a bit closer and this time you don’t move back. Then his hand comes up to the frame of your door as his lanky body leans against it and his head flips up, hair flicking water all over the place before slicking back all messily. Then he weighs his head to the side in a way that has you… mesmerized?

Voice lowering into something coiled with desire, “Just… let me in, and I’ll explain everything,” He promises. Though, there’s a twang inside you that’s telling you not to make things that easy for him—not after the year of heartbreak you just endured.

Your brows pinch together, “What? Do you know how torturous this past year has been for me? How… How painful? A-And you think I’m just gonna let you waltz back into my house after a single apology and acknowledgement of your own faults?” You scoff, arms crossing under your chest and eyes rolling elsewhere. “Fuck that, and fuck you. I want an explanation now.”

A brief smile flickers over his unfairly angelic features, “You mean our house, right?” He asks half-jokingly, as if now was the time for such a thing. You could tell your claim over a home that you two once shared struck a nerve, seeing as he’d breezed over everything you just said for a second. Gojo’s forehead rests against the back of his hand a bit, “I’ll give you an explanation and more if you just let me in. C’mon baby, I.. I’m cold.” He says carefully.

Your tears have sunken into your skin by now, halfway dried up and replaced with heated frustration. “So was I for the past twelve months,” You spat, “Y’know, seeing as you abandoned me. If you want to come inside so badly, just–”

“Do you want me to beg?” He interrupts to offer, not waiting for a response. You stand there and watch the way his body gradually lowers and he slides down to his knees, now staring up at you with a gorgeous apologetic look in his eyes. All puppy-like and doleful, his gaze never leaves yours, “Please, let me in, sweetheart. Hah, I can’t explain everything while m’out here, it’s too cold—I’ll freeze to death.”

It was weirdly comforting to hear he still had his dramatic sense of humor despite ghosting you for a year…

Rolling your eyes again, “Gojo–”

He suddenly utters your name, all longingly like a prayer on his tongue. Then you feel a connection somewhere below, looking down to see he’s managed to pinch a fraction of your sweatpants in between his long fingers. “Please? I want to explain, I really do, but you’ve gotta let me inside first,” He insists with a slight tug.

You stumble forward, your body exiting the warmth of your home as you stand an inch past your doorframe. And before you could argue or send any more curses his way, he’s wrapping his arms around your legs and nuzzling his face into your thighs.

“I missed you,” Gojo has the nerve to utter so lovingly that it has your mind raging wars again. After which you feel his nails—that seem as though they haven’t been clipped in forever—slightly sinking into the back of your thighs to hold you closer to him. “Please let me come in,” He repeats like a broken record before looking up at you again, cheek mushed against your leg, “Let me come home.”

The way he says that almost makes you want to burst into another fit of tears but you don’t. You inhale sharply and steel your emotions before glancing off with glossy eyes.

Muttering something you hopefully won’t regret, “F-Fine.”

At the end of the day, he was the love of your life. You couldn’t deny him no matter how much you lied to yourself.

“Say it,” His tone is harsh like some sort of command and it makes you flinch slightly.

You’re confused but, you sigh anyway, “You… You can come inside, Gojo.”

You’d think your recent search history would’ve given you some insight as to why that may not have been the best idea….

——

After a slight groan exited his throat, you could barely register what was happening before he tightened his hold on you and then stood up, throwing your body over his shoulder as if you were weightless.

It’s not like Gojo couldn’t do such a thing before—he used to pick you up all the time—but something about this was a little too seamless. It was rather supernatural the way your body hauled up over his shoulder as he walked into the house and then kicked the door shut behind him with a slight slam.

Not that you questioned that either.

You were far too busy carousing in the fact that Gojo, your ex, had just walked into your house again. It felt different, especially with a million questions unanswered. But, something in you was on the path toward healing.

Gojo’s damp clothes brush against your skin and begin to wet you up slightly in the process of carrying you. Every step he takes only drips rainwater onto your floors and although you probably should, you don’t find room in your mind to care. His breathing is scarily quiet and evened, like having your weight on his shoulder truly did nothing to his body.

By the time he reaches your kitchen, the lingering thick scent of your pie hits his nostrils and brings that domestic comfort back into his body. The way he set you down on the counter and settles his body in between your legs to stand close and meet eyes with you is painfully familiar. You’d been in this position with the man thousands of times before, all for different reasons but always eye to eye with him no matter.

Gojo’s palms rest against the cool of the counter outside your thighs, keeping you caged by his imminent frame. He’s close, too close. You notice the way his eyes are searching your face as if to recommit every detail to memory whilst he struggles for where to begin.

“Gojo,” You hum, voice wavering with more exhaustion than fear or concern. “I didn’t let you in just to stare at me. Start talking—”

“First off,” Your ex cuts off rudely, eyes boring into yours hungrily. “Don’t treat me like a stranger. You know me. Say my name.” He commands.

You blink at him as the audacity of his words leaves your jaw tense. Scoffing in his face, “You’ve been gone for a year. Get over yourself. I’ll call you whatever the hell I want.”

He jeers under his breath, plush lips twisting up slightly in the same way you remember it to before an argument—something of which was pretty rare between you two, “Yeah? So that’s the game we’re playing here? You’re gonna sit here and pretend to be mad at me?”

A humorless laugh escapes you, “You really don’t think I’m mad at you?” You question rhetorically with a slight cock of your brow, “You were gone for a year, Gojo. A year.”

“And I said I’m sorry for that.” He replies blankly.

You couldn't believe his audacity, acting as if you owed him forgiveness. “Yeah, because that makes up for it—”

“Okay, okay, listen,” He sighs interruptingly, shoulders sagging, “I got into some… stuff.”

You hated how vague he was being, your brows knitting together and your voice pointed, “What kinda ‘stuff’? Don’t beat around the bush, just tell me.”

“It’s uh,” His hand lifts from the counter and meets the back of his neck to scratch, “It’s kinda hard to do that…”

This was driving you insane-, he was driving you insane. Gone for a year just to come back and do nothing but confuse you even more? The number of scoffs that’d left your lips by this point was almost concerning, yet expected. “Why?” You ask him, hoping he’ll stop dragging this out.

Unfortunately for you, Gojo can’t even help himself. His pupils travel your face—so full of hurt and perplexity—and he carefully takes in your every shift in expression. He’d watched your face change from sadness to anger, and now confusion in only a matter of ten to twenty minutes. And to top it all off? His body was betraying him.

He was anything but focused on the conversation at hand, his gaze dipping down to your neck and then your collarbone area. Fuck, his mouth was salivating before he could control it. Then his ears were thrumming, the sound of your blood flowing beneath your soft flesh ringing throughout his senses and dazing his brain. 

Almost possessed, “I’m a bit distracted….” He tells you in a voice so light you almost miss it, like he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

You narrow your eyes, “By what?”

Gojo leans down suddenly, so close that his breath ghosts your skin. His nose grazes your neck and your pulse stutters. “Your… scent,” He mutters, almost moaning the word. His voice is a pitch lower now, breathier, and you feel the heat of it sliding down your skin along with the drips of water from his body.

Your hands shoot up to his chest, the wet fabric cold beneath your palms, ready to push him away—but he doesn’t stop. You cling to his soaked shirt, a familiar care flashing in your mind as you consider escorting him back to the bedroom you used to share so he could change out of these rain-filled fabrics and avoid sickness.

Despite the cold water coating his body, his breath is warm against your neck while something starved rumbles at the center of his throat, “Fuck, I uh—hahh… I can’t really think about anything else…” He mumbles randomly before adding a faint, “God, you’re dizzying…”

You blink, “W-What? Gojo, what’s wrong with y—”

“Say my fucking name,” He grunts, voice pleading and raw all of a sudden. Then a whine laces in, and his teeth are sharpening, “Please?”

You hesitate. His back and forth between something commanding and something utterly desperate was gonna give you a headache sooner or later. “…Satoru,” His first name on your tongue has him purring like a stray cat before you thread your fingers into his wet hair and then force him to meet your gaze. The moment your eyes lock with one another, you flinch. The azure in his gaze were so unfocused and glassy, completely drunken with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. “Are you okay??” You finally ask.

He shakes his head no indistinctly, lips pulling into a soft pout, “M’thirsty, sweetheart. So goddamn thirsty…”

You blink, confused, and then snort with a half-smile forcing itself onto your features at his bizarre acts, “D-Do you want some water?”

Your voice was making his body throb. Every part of your lips and subtle adjustment of your figure only amplified the sound of your blood running beneath your veins and he felt like he was seconds away from either passing out or doing something he’d regret for the rest of his immortal life.

An actual whine threads out of his lips this time, completely broken as his eyelids seal shut like he’s in pain, “Shiiit, I shouldn’t’ve come here yet…”

Colored completely confused, you just stare. You hardly know what to say, much less what to do now, “Satoru, can you please tell me what’s going on with—”

“For fuck’s sake,” He snaps abruptly, and when his eyes open again, they’re impossibly hued with an inhumane glint, “I’m a vampire,” He finally, finally admits to you, “I’ve been gone for a year because I was turned, and if I immediately came back to you, I would’ve accidentally killed you trying to quench my insatiable thirst.”

His explanation hits you like a truck, leaving you frozen.

Your ex-boyfriend’s a vampire now? And he’s standing right in front of you after a year of avoiding you because he didn’t want to kill you?

Wait, more importantly…

You let him into your house not knowing this? 

So much for all that research…

The air between you both is thickened all over again and his voice breaks out along with him slipping away from your hold on his hair, face sliding back down toward your neck again, “God, that’s so shitty of me, isn’t it?” Gojo whispers tenderly. “Leavin’ for a year and then coming back with that as an explanation…”

As he speaks, his head steadily angles against your neck and you find yourself instinctively making room for him. Your fingers still run through his hair like second nature and you notice how, despite him being quite soaked, there isn’t a single shiver exuding from his body.

Perhaps he wasn’t lying. He really was a vampire.

“You probably hate me now,” He’s murmuring still, lips on your skin now. Then they part and you feel his teeth graze you for half a second before he grunts and shuts his mouth. “…Shit, I-I’m sorry.” Even as his apology exits him, you feel his hands slide up so that his fingers could curl against your waist—claws digging into you.

To which you flinch and shoot a hand down to his wrist, “Fuck, Satoru, that hurts..” You wince softly.

He frowns at your neck, “M’sorry..” Then the other hand you’ve got in his hair grips tighter before you yank his head away from your neck. Gojo moans shamelessly at your aggressiveness and his eyes are low with the desire to please coating them. “W-Wait, wait,” He huffs, as if drawing him away from your neck would very well kill him any moment now. “I just… I need a taste, sweetheart.”

You’re staring at him blankly but something faint in your expression twitches. You were never good at refusing Gojo’s begging. That was always your weakness. Even more now that he looks as though he’d drop dead if he didn’t get some sort of nutrients on his tongue.

As you finally consider your recent research, you do know a bit more about vampires now than you did a couple hours ago. You know it’s difficult for them to communicate when their thirst is clawing at their insides and driving them insane. With that in mind, you couldn’t possibly expect to have a proper conversation with Gojo when he’s like this.

So, your grip on his hair finally loosens and you sigh, “Okay… What do you want me to do?”

His pupils dilate as your words hit his ears and there’s a twitch from his cock already. You were so perfect, just as perfect as he remembered you to be.

Treating this situation like a delicacy wrapped in some sort of blessing, Gojo’s careful with the way he draws his hands up and takes your face into his palms. He then leans forward and you blink as his lips touch your forehead—a motion of silent thanks before he redirects his touch to your waist and drags your body closer to the counter’s edge.

Your legs are nearly wrapped around him now but neither of you seems to care too much. Gojo hears the bumping of your heart growing faster as the distance lessens and the sound only makes his teeth ache to bare fangs. There’s a noise simpering somewhere deep in his throat but you can’t really make it out and you’re too distracted by how he makes his way to your neck.

Gracefully, he lifts a finger to your chin to tip it up and then angles it off so he has room. The chill that’s induced from his breath on your tense skin is prominent. He hasn’t even answered your question verbally and yet you felt beyond nervous.

He should be able to quench his thirst without harming you, right? He wouldn’t drain you completely, would he? What if it hurts too much? What if—

“I can hear your thoughts, you know,” Gojo says all of a sudden, the words felt at your neck. “I’d never ask to do something like this if I didn’t know what I was doing.”

You gulp. “…You can hear my thoughts?”

“Every last one is like a dreamt sonnet to my mind,” He voices thickly before wrapping his arms around you as if to keep your nerve-racked body steady against him. Then his tongue darts out and he laps over the area he plans to sink his sharpening fangs into, “No matter how insignificant… or remarkable, I cling to every word in that pretty head of yours.”

Before you can comment on his rather poetic way of saying he now possesses some type of telepathic ability, the warm spread of his lips followed by something honed is grazing your flesh. Your hands have found his shirt to clutch onto and that grasp grows tighter.

Gojo lets the two tips of his fangs prick your skin before he whispers, “This will only hurt for a moment, then you will feel pleasure. I promise.”

Your brows furrow. Pleasure? From getting blood sucked out of you? That doesn’t even sound righ—

His teeth pierce through your neck before you could even finish that thought of yours. Your eyes widen and you yelp out in pain whilst his hands soothe over your waist with gently rubbing thumbs as if to coax you through it. 

The pain is rivaling something excruciating but because it’s him, because it’s someone you still believe to be the love of your life, it’s a sensation you can almost ignore. Not completely, of course. You could still feel the very structure of his fangs lodged past the layer of flesh on your neck so that blood could pour out past them and travel to his taste buds. The initial bite has you holding onto Gojo for dear life and you swear it lasts forever.

Then those fangs retract and you feel his mouth cup the area, a slosh of blood and saliva coating that part of your neck before his tongue laps out at you. The skin there is tender given the wound he’d just created but a strange noise slips out of you the moment he begins to suck.

It’s an eccentric sensation to feel someone suckling your blood into their mouth. The feeling can hardly be described at first outside of something strictly painful. But, just as he’d told you, pleasure soon follows like the calm after a wild storm. Perhaps it was because of how his tongue navigated around the open wound as if he’d mapped the region out time and time again.

And hey, technically speaking, he had mapped that area out thousands of times before this. Y’know, back when he was a human…

Reeling back into this moment, Gojo takes a while to quench his thirst and through every second you could feel your body responding in ways you weren’t quite expecting. You didn’t even realize you were coddling his head closer to your neck and where he was sucking until he groaned at the way your nails faintly scraped his scalp.

He tries to pull away for a moment to breathe but each time he does, a slim stream of your blood begins to trickle down and threatens to stain your shirt. To which he’d dive back in and lick the sweet flavor back onto his tongue.

When he was a freshly-turned vampire, he’d been told how the blood of a lover is sweeter than anything else on this earth and yet, he never quite expected it to be like this. “Mmnh,” Gojo moans unintentionally against you.

Every time he thought he was done, he just went right back in for more, beyond addicted to the thick liquid gushing out onto his tongue. The vampire only ever knew of one other thing to be sweeter than this.

But he hadn’t quite made his way down to that yet…

You think he’s satisfied his thirst at some point but you’re quickly distracted when you feel his lips traveling up, bloodied kisses decorating the side of your neck as he peppers them into your skin. One of his hands dives into his pocket—as if prepared for this—and he quickly pulls out a bandaid for the wound. Your grip on his hair steadily loosens and you should’ve said something about how he started kissing you as if he earned the right to do so but, instead your head is tipping back as he makes his way to your jaw.

The bandaid he pulled out is pressed over your open wound and his hands then find the thick of your hips so he can force your body to be completely flush with his. Right then, you gasp out into the air with the way his cock is felt poking up against your clothed cunt. There are multiple layers in between the two of you but that matters little with the way he starts marking your neck with dark love bites and grinding up against you.

Gojo solely plucks away from your throat for one thing and one thing only.

As his head flies up and your eyes meet his, neither of you spares the other a word nor do you think before you’re doing what’s so severely natural. You know you shouldn’t be giving into him this easily, you know you should still be yelling at him about how hurt you are but when his lips are slotting onto yours and his tongue is transferring the taste of your blood into your mouth—you can’t fathom a single thought outside of this moment.

Your face twists up at the metallic taste and he catches it, biting back a smile at your rather endearing reaction before pulling away—just barely—and clasping your chin in between his fingers to whisper, “It’s not as sweet for you, is it?” He whispers. You shake your head in response and he hums, “Figured… There’s an easy fix for that though, just spit in my mouth,” He breathes out suddenly.

Almost instantly, you’re taken out of whatever trance you’d just been stuck in and blink, “W-What?”

Gojo smiles faintly before letting his tongue lull out, “Cleanse me, sweetheart.”

As if possessed, you hardly know why you do just as he’s asked and let a thick droplet of your saliva coat his blood-stained tongue within the next second. Then you watch the way he swirls his tongue around in his mouth, as if the liquid from your mouth truly absolved the taste of your blood and replaced it with something even sweeter.

Not many seconds after that pass before your lips are colliding against one another again and your bodies are moving in unison—physically proving the deep and utterly natural craving you both harbored for one another. Everything is sensual and desperate. It’s a wet ‘n messy glide of need through the act of making out that collides oh so heavily. Gojo’s now clinging onto your hips again as if he were afraid he’d be snatched away from you again, his body unable to avoid creating more friction just to earn those pretty whines he’d missed so much.

And the moment you start moaning as if you missed him just as much as he missed you? 

Oh, he can’t even control his own body before he’s scooping you back up into his arms and carrying you off into the living room, tossing you down gently on the couch. You try to gasp but he doesn’t even give you time to do that, his lips are crashing down into yours again and this time he’s got your thigh against his palm and is tugging your leg up to rest at his hip while he grinds down into you achingly.

“S-Satoru,” You’re attempting to pull him back into reality and remind him that you’re not his girlfriend anymore and that he still has a shit ton of explaining to do!

Groaning to let you know he heard that, “S’that so? You’re not my girlfriend anymore?” Gojo mumbles against your mouth, tongue still darting out to swipe over your bottom lip.

Your eyes are half-lidded and your body is hot all over, even with his wet clothing mashing against you and soaking you up. “It’s been a year,” You huff, “You can’t just show up at my house–”

“Our,” He corrects testingly yet again.

Rolling your eyes, “Whatever, our house, suck my blood, and then try to fuck me like you haven’t been gone,” You scold seriously with your hands at his chest, pushing his body up to create some sort of distance. “I don’t even know what happened to you yet-, or, how you became a vampire...”

“And yet you let me kiss you,” He points out. “We can get into the details later, sweets. Right now all I wanna do is—”

“You don’t get to leave me emotionally wrecked for a year and then come back into my life trying to fix it with your dick,” You say with finality.

That seems to strike the right nerve.

“Tch, fine,” He moves his hands to the bottom of his shirt and slowly lifts it up all slut-like to reveal his marred body, one thick painful-looking scar stretching out across his abdomen as if his body had once been split in half or something like that. “S’This what you want, huh?” He asks meanly, as if he was trying to hide the shame he felt from his tethered body beneath anger, “Want me to tell you how some seven foot, four-armed freak ripped me to shreds? How it was Suguru—who I know you never liked—that found me at the last inch of my life and then saved me?”

Your gaze trails down his figure and even though it’s clear by the aggression in his outburst that he’s ashamed of what he’s showing you, you can’t help but gawk at the man presented to you. Even with nasty battle scars all over his skin you still found him as attractive as ever—if not more so now than you did before.

You gulp and let out a soft scoff, “Jesus, Satoru…”

Then he flings his shirt across the room and his palms relax against the couch at the sides of your head, caging you under him, “Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that satisfy you?” Gojo asks in a voice threading onto something broken, “Or… do you also need to hear how I only stayed away for a year because I was too much of a coward to come back to you like this?”

When you finally meet eyes with him again, you notice his are coated with tears and the sight immediately makes your heart lurch in your chest as your expression falters. You couldn’t bear to see the love of your life looking at you as if he was wrapped in a disgusting cloud of something shameful and hideous. Gojo Satoru, of all people, looming over you now with a look on his face that said he was abashed to show himself to you like this.

Your hands instinctively shoot up to his face, cupping his cheeks into your palms and pulling him closer to you so that your thumbs could wipe his lower lashline where the fluid had welt up. It wasn’t water, no. It was yet another reminder that the man before you was no longer human as a reddened liquid pricked the corners of his eyes.

And yet, despite it all, he was still as beautiful as an angel before you.

The thought fluttering around in your head makes his lips twitch up into a saddened smile, “You can’t… You can’t yell at me, think such pretty things about me, and then expect me not to crave you the way I do.” He mutters.

Still wiping his bloody tears away, “And you can’t come home to me acting as though I wouldn’t have accepted you exactly as you are. I’m not mad that you’re a vampire, Satoru—you know that. I’m upset because you left me to think you were dead. I mourned you.”

“I know,” He whispers for the nth time, turning his face into your palm and kissing it delicately, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m unsure how many different ways I can say that but I mean it, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything.” Gojo expresses in that breathy voice of his. Then his gaze trails elsewhere, “I tried to, honestly. The first thing I wanted to do when I was turned was run back to you but… if I’d done that, I could’ve accidentally killed you. I had new powers I couldn’t control a-and… I can’t even begin to imagine a life without you, sweetheart. I only exist where you do.”

Your heart aches and his words are starting to feel like a cursed apology, “I…”

His hands come to your wrists for a second before he pulls his face out of your hold and leans all the way up. 

In his mind, he’s cursing at himself for not coming home sooner. He’s been in control of his powers for months. Hell, he’s even been lingering outside the house on multiple occasions. All those times you felt as though his ghost was haunting you? He was actually there, somewhere off in the distance connecting with you via silent entries on your mind.

“If this is too much,” Gojo begins whilst looking off to the front door. He was going to do it again, run away and avoid facing you as he is. “I can leave. If you can’t handle or accept all this now then just say the word and I’ll—”

You cut him off sharply, your voice trembling through gritted teeth, and a hand of yours coming up to tug him back down to you, “Satoru, if you ever leave me again, I’ll drag you out into the sunlight and let your ashes decorate our lawn.”

“Well, shit… t-that’s a bit of an oxymoron, don’t you think?” He chuckles nervously in response. When he notices you find humor in that too, and your lips twitch to fight off a smile, his head tilts dotingly, “Did you miss me that much, sweetheart?”

You glare at him, “You can read my mind, you know the answer to that already.”

In reaction, Gojo eases his way down to you again and his mouth ghosts yours, “Does this mean I can kiss you again?”

“Just once more,” You lie so obviously through the same lips that are meeting him within the next second.

This time the connection is softened with all the desperation of two people who’ve been starving for a year. His body is slow to sandwich down against yours again and it’s as though the depressive weight on your shoulder was finally lifted again.

Gojo’s lips are tentative and loving now as opposed to the messy, desperate movements from before. His grunts are lighter at his throat and your tongues dance in and out of one another’s mouths in a familiar rhythm. You were finally feeling whole again.

Your other half had returned to you and although he was different and although the two of you should probably be taking this a lot slower than you were, one year without any sort of stimulation mixed with grief really does something to the human body.

You don’t even know when your legs wrapped around Gojo’s waist or when he started grinding his hard cock down against your clothed cunt again but you do know it feels better now than it did a few minutes ago. Perhaps it’s because most of the tears and heartfelt confessions were out of the way.

Or, maybe it was because the movement of his body against yours was something you accepted now.

Not that this means you won’t tease him in between kisses to cover up the worked-up noises at your throat. “I still hate you, y’know,” You’d whisper, though Gojo heard the baselessness in your words.

“Yeah?” He snickers, smiling softly against your lips before the shape of his cock pressed right up between your steadily drooling folds and slicked panties, “Want me to suck your clit as an apology next?” He offers.

You gasp at his crudeness, “Satoru!”

To which he only grins and tilts his head a little, eyes low on yours, “You’re laughing but m’serious…”

“I’m not letting you fuck me that easily…” Your hand readjusts across his chest and you push him away enough to look down at his scars again, “You just got back.”

Gojo groans and lets his eyes roll at your claims, “And we’ve so much lost time to make up for.” He protests, hand coming up over yours as he whorishly guides it down his chest, “Plus… I’m a lot stronger now.”

You cock a brow as your gaze flicks back and forth between the sharp abs against your palm and his gradually blushing expression, “So?”

A snarky grin spreads out across his rose tinted lips, “Don’t you wanna test out this new strength of mine? C’mon, you were just wondering how vampire bodies work and now you’ve got one right in front of you—willing to do anything to heal what he’s broken.”

You grit your teeth and he stops your hand right against his pelvis, letting your fingers tease the veins that trail down to the same cock rubbing against your cunt through many tiresome layers of clothes. 

It doesn’t take much more for you to give in, “I hate it when you sweet talk me…”

“You love it,” He argues.

Your hand slips down all of a sudden—catching him off guard—and snags onto the waistline of his pants, fingertips teasing beneath the fabric. The sound of his breath hitching doesn’t go unnoticed and when you look up, you feel yourself throb at his reaction.

Gojo’s jaw has fallen open slightly and you see him fighting with his fangs as if to keep them at bay. They keep sharpening slightly and then retracting in tandem with his fluttering white lashes as if he were fighting his own lust.

Smirking, “Hey, Satoru…” The moment your voice hits his ears, you watch his fangs uncontrollably elongate in raw reaction to the sound. “Why do your teeth keep doing that?” You ask with faux innocence.

Gojo lets out a long and heavy breath of air before swiping his tongue over his teeth and clicking his tongue, “Think of it like a vampiric boner…”

You snort, “What? That’s a thing?”

“Obviously,” He replies sassily. “And I can’t even control it, every time you touch me, I—“

You purposefully start peeling his pants down to reveal more of his carved V-line to your greedy eyes and earn an aroused hiss from the man. It’s not until you pull the fabric down enough to expose a sliver of his needy cock that Gojo snatches your hand away and pins it up above your head.

Low and heavy, “...Is this your way of saying you’re ready to make up for lost time or what?” He sears, eyes glinting with a primal desire for you, who’s laid all too prettily beneath him.

A slip of drool decorates his bottom lip and his fangs seem almost sharper than they did before, bared with another low hiss exiting his throat as you answer him with one shy nod of your head.

———

And approximately six minutes later he’s in between your legs.

What can you say, you’re an easy woman when it comes to your ex-boyfriend Gojo. That, and it’s been a whole year since you’ve had sex! Do you know how crazy that drives a person?

Well, when your ex began kissing downwards and rubbing his thumbs greedily against your inner thighs before spreading them out, you just couldn’t help but give in entirely. 

“Goddd, I missed my girl,” Gojo’s moaning now, “Look at her, just as sloppy ‘n wet as I remember. Mwah,” He presses a nasty kiss to your soaked pussy lips, a glistening mess of slick stringing in between the connection as he continues running his mouth. “Mmnh, did you miss me, baby? Yeah? Y’missed ‘Toru, didn’t you?”

Then he’s expertly tonguing his words deeper into your cunt as if to prove a point, the lathering licks from the pink muscle echoing all throughout the living room. You wanted to hate how easily you sprawled your legs out for him but, he was your boyfriend after all—at one point, anyway.

Plus, he’s unfairly good with his tongue.

Back arching up and mouth left agape, “S-Satoru… I hated when you-, mmgh! T-Talked to my pussy then, hah.. what makes you think I like it n-now?” You ask in between breathy moans.

There’s a constant thump from his hips as he humps his hard cock against the couch, aching for some type of friction again whilst he suckles your clit into his mouth with wanting fervor. 

Sloppy and uncaring of how debauched he is, “I dunno, maybe the way she’s suckin’ my fingers in like the slutty girl I remember her to be,” Gojo husks out in that arousend ‘n raspy baritone of his before prying his mouth away and replacing it with two thrusting fingers that waste no time stimulating your g-spot, “Ain’t that right, pretty?” He snickers, watching your pussy gush out more aroused slick against his skin, “Ohhh, there’s the spot, huh? Yeah, I still remember.”

“P-Please shut up,” You moan as your eyes cross a little. You’ve got a hand flying down to his wrist as if to guide his fingers where you want them but your light grasp is futile since he seems to remember every tender spot inside your honeyed walls, “Fuck-, you’re so embarrassing…”

“You can’t say that while you’re cumming on my fingers,” Gojo points out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sad thing is, you didn't even realize the gluey mess that was quickly decorating his fingers in thick uncontrollable globs. “Kinda’ hypocritical if you ask me..” He adds with a cheeky smile on his face.

Then his two digits are hastily scissoring your insides to prepare you for what’s to come as he knows you haven’t been with anyone else since he’s left and although your insides are exactly as he remembers them to be, he almost feels as though you’re squeezing his fingers tighter than you ever have before.

And the way your gorgeous slick spurts out at his every word has him smiling way too proudly, “All that arguing and yelling ‘n yet all you needed was a couple of fingers to get you to act right again, huh?” Gojo says cockily.

You groan through gritted teeth as your soft walls clamp around him and your legs twitch to shut and run away from the pleasure you were receiving, “Y-You know, mmgh, damn well you’re the one who was actin’ wrong,” You argue back, hips steadily reeling away from him.

Scoffing at the cute attempt, Gojo quickly brings his other hand up to your hip and snags your body right back towards him as he dives his mouth back down against your clit and signs the letters of his name out around your clit in what feels like cursive. Drooling against the twitching bud profusely as if every drop of your taste was coaxing him towards something premature.

And it was, Gojo felt his plumped cockhead jumping in between his constant humps against the couch, smearing precum all over his boxers and leaving a sticky mess of need that he knew he’d probably be embarrassed about later. Especially since it only takes fingering you to one more orgasm for his own to come crashing over him like a tidal wave, creamy cum soiling his crotch awkwardly.

Then it gets worse because you notice, you see how his eyes gloss over and watch the way he starts crying at how blissfully good it feels—as if he’d been holding it in for a while prior to now. Broken mutters of, “Fuck that feels s’good,” Tiptoing past his slobbed lips before he plucks his fingers out of you.

You’re a mess yourself but he’s definitely far worse. Staring up at you with tear-stained cheeks, Gojo merely takes it a step further and lets you ogle the way he sucks your taste off of his fingers and rolls his eyes back in the midst of doing so.

After which he’s operating like a male beyond possessed and steered by his own lust. It’s been way too long since he’d been inside you and if you thought his cock would soften after one pathetic orgasm then you clearly underestimated a few things about him.

Now, sex with Gojo as a human was one thing in itself but sex with Gojo as a vampire makes you feel dirty.

Minutes later and he’s got his cum lathered dick sprung out and slapping against his abdomen, smearing his own mess against his skin whilst he takes one hand and uses it to pry your thighs apart again—his other set of fingers wrapping around his heavy girth and giving himself a couple of needed and lazy strokes.

His body was on fire and he felt as though if he didn’t stuff himself past the twitching spread of your pussylips any second now, he would die of a different kind of thirst that wasn’t exactly vampiric…

When he starts angling himself up against your cunt, mushroomy tip scribbling his milky seed against your folds, his fangs begin to sharpen again. “I missed you s-so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groaned as his cock finally began to slide past that stubborn ring of resistance he’s sure missed him just as much.

The way your glossy folds stretch around his blushing head is enough to make his eyes glint with that burning hunger of his again and—one more—you’ve never felt like a slut more than you did right now. 

“Did you miss me? Huh? Tell me,” Gojo would whisper out. Of course, you can’t tell if that’s to you or pussy, who’s he’s busy caressing messy rubbings against as if that would ease how difficult it was to take him in. It felt as though he got even bigger than you remembered him to be and hell, maybe he did. “I need to hear it, please…”

You nod hurriedly and your body is itching to pull away for a moment to breathe, “Y-Yes, I missed you, Satoru… ohm-mygodd, I missed you s’muuch,” You whine out into the air convincingly enough to urge his hips into suddenly snapping forward.

The two of you choke out the same moan in sync and his head falls back, “Ohh f-fuuck,” Gojo voices hotly. Then he rolls his head so that his eyes could fall down on you and make sure you weren’t struggling to take his cock too badly,  “Yeah, I missed you too… “ He coos, “Thought about you everyday, sweetheart...”

Between the breaths he was unintentionally fucking out of your lungs, you manage a breathess, “Did you? Or d-did you just think about… hahh-, fucking me?” 

He smiles almost wickedly, “Both, my love.” Then he’s down against your ear in the next second, fangs grazing your skin, “I only dreamt of being inside you like this again. Hah, look at youuu.” He purrs whilst glancing down and watching the way his dick glides almost all the way out of you so unfairly gorgeously. Then, Gojo snickers, “Missed me s’much you won’t even let me go, how cute…” He comments, tip still poking against your entrance.

“Satoruuuu,” You begin to whine at the lack of him inside you and he doesn’t waste any time making it up by taking your legs into his hands.

“I hear you sweetheart, relaax. M’not pulling out, just wanna..” He palms the underside your thighs and pushes them up, up, up so that your legs are sandwiched snuggly to your chest, “Theree we go, now I can fuck this pussy properly,” He accentuated with a simple, yet brutal push into you again.

His long cock snags deep against the plush insides of your enveloping pussy and the way he’s got your body pinned to the couch and completely unable to lift or even move a muscle to escape his thrusting has your moans coming out in stammered breaths.

Gojo’s length is greedy ‘n one big, messy mess against your insides, hitting that spot to make you see streaks of blinding white stars in seconds. The constant slap of his heavy balls against your skin plows throughout the room and you were being stuffed to the brim with him up until you couldn’t even think about anything else.

The only time you get some type of break is when he hauls your left leg up and starts pumping his veiny girth at a new angle, his head turning and lips meeting your calf. Then Gojo starts licking the skin there, one leg wrapped around tightly as his hips hammer forward and your body jerks in tandem.

“J-Just one more taste, sweetheart. Please,” He whines suddenly, trailing his eyes over to your cockdrunken state, “I won’t make a mess this time, promise…”

You could hardly make out what he was saying considering how dumb he’d fucked you on his cock so, all you do is give him one messy nod of your head and the next thing you feel his im driving his fangs into your leg.

The pain is nowhere near excruciating this time. If anything it feels good, so good that you’re squirting around his shaft with that translucent liquid before you even realize it. Your moan is loud enough to fill every hallway of your house and Gojo’s losing his mind all the same.

Smiling into the wound he’s actively creating, “You’re so sweet,” He praises, his other hand moving from your thigh and over to where his cock is pumping in and out of you so that he can press down. “Fuckin’ delicious… Does that feel good, baby?” He asks in between his slovenly laps, ”A-Am I still makin’ my girl feel good, huh?”

“Y-Yes ‘Toru,” Your voice is hardly there but even if you’d thought those pretty words out, he would’ve reacted all the same.

Groaning, “Fuuck, I missed that nickname.” Then your gummy walls start squeezing around him again and he feels his cock trembling for release, “Aah, b-baby… m’gonna cum,” He whines honestly, “You feel too-, fuck, n-no.. you taste too good, I’m…” He finally stops sucking and lets himself gulp your blood down his throat, eyes widening in sheer bliss before he looks down at you carnally. Voice many pitches deeper, “Sweetheart, you gotta let me cum inside you.” Gojo huffs.

You finally break out a smile as your mind makes enough space to think about your searches from earlier in the night and your hand grips onto the couch a little tighter, “Mmgh, ahh… y-you need my permission to do that, huh?”

“Fuck, don’t tease,” He whines again, eyes glossing over again whilst his thrusts grow erratic, “P-Please don’t fuckin’ tease me… J-Just say I can… fuuuck… baby, please.. please?”

“You could always-, mmnh, pull out,” You giggle cockdrunkenly.

Gojo groans as if you just cursed at him and his hips snap forward with more vigor, fucking a drooling head of curses into you hard enough to have your vision numbed with stars again, “You really think I can-, hahh… go a year without bein’ inside this pussy and-, fuck.. not breed her when I get back?” He asks, mind barely even present in this conversation.

All he can think about at this point is filling you with his seed and fucking something dangerous into you. Perhaps if he’d done that a year ago, he would’ve never taken so long to return…

“S’toru,” You babble as drool trickles down to your chin and he starts repositioning slightly again.

“Let me cum inside,” Gojo huffs whilst folding you back into the meanest mating press, “Sweetheart, let me fuck my cum into you, please…” His voice cracks into something beyond submissive as his eyes fight a crossing, “I-I can’t… pleasepleaseplease—“

“Satoru!” You gasp out instead of saying what he wants to hear.

To which he takes a slightly different approach and comes up to your ear again, “I’ve been a good boy for you haven’t I?” He asks so abruptly that it catches you entirely off guard.

“W-What?” You stammer cutely.

“Reward me,” Gojo demands in return, leaning up just a little to look you dead in the eyes with want pouring out of their blued haze, “Let me breed this pussy again… I-I’ve earned it, yeah?” He questions adorably. To which you shake your head and his body shudders. Making him grumble, “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

A smile breaks out across your face and you chuckle breathlessly, “I-I know..”

Gojo moves suddenly and his hands snake under your entire frame, grabbing at the fats of your ass before he steadies himself on the couch and starts pulling your body up to meet his bruising thrusts, the couch beginning to shake and even shake violently as he does so.

You’re a mess of drool and faint tears as he does that, the feeling of his thick cock prodding at the syrupy hilt of your pussy in a French-kissing manner has you gasping for air and clawing at his back hard enough to leave more scars. “‘Toru-, ohmygod,” You cry out, “O-Okay, fuuck.. you can cum inside me…”

“Uh-uh, you can say it better than that,” He opposes. You hate the way he always manages to get precisely what he wants out of you, “Tell me what I wanna hear, what exactly do you want me to do, huuh?”

“You’re s-so fuckin’… shit-, a-annoying,” You mumble before finally, finally giving in, “I want you to breed me, ‘Toru.”

“Thereee she is,” And then it’s instantaneous the way his cum flushes out into your cum, each drop fucked deeper and deeper into your tight cavern to make sure it takes. “Never gonna leave you again,” Gojo whispers lovingly to contrast the carnal movement of his hips whilst his cock thrashes against your womb.

Your fingernails are still lightly lodged into his back but you manage out one heavy breath of, “You better not…”

Which lets you know that, apparently, the random Reddit thread you scrolled through was wrong…

Vampires do, in fact, need permission to cum inside you after all!

tags 1/2:

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@kaofindj @d43dg1rl @mimiluvzu2 @lululemmington @choso-enthusiast

@brefninanami @stay0802 @chosos-prettyprincess @ersharyzst @blubearxy 

@ravenbc @sugarcoatedsoul @jay4luvsya @melancholic-cow @grignardsreagent 

@littlefuzzybabykitty @designerpvssy @chrysaoraa @noyaswrld @anonimedsk 

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@mandistromboli @pussyeaterleah @theuniversesnepobaby @mollysails @ficrepostblog

Walking through the aisles, you drop a pack of canned corn into your basket as you pass them on your way to the meat section. Should you get both hard taco shells and tortilla bread? Although satisfyingly crunchy, you always manage to shatter the shells and dump out the contents. If you’re lucky, they’re saved by the plate, if not… Yeah, you’ll get both kinds.

Seeing as this particular store is only your third pick when it comes to grocery shopping, and you’re not here all that often, you try to recall where exactly the beef is. As you think back to the last time you visited, your eyes land on something in the aisle opposite you.

Two seconds later, you realize that you recognize the tall, dark-haired man you’re watching.

Jeongguk.

He’s wearing all black: a regular but rather thin-looking black jacket, unzipped over a black t-shirt, and paired with black jeans on the looser side. The sign above him reads Pet Food, and while you don’t make it a habit to engage in conversation with clients you meet in the wild unless they initiate it, you’re already moving. 

You bite your lip, a little hesitant whether you really should or not, but considering how he’s holding two different cans of cat food, seemingly comparing their contents, you might be of help.

“Hey,” you greet, smiling.

His eyes widen slightly when he turns his head and sees you.

“Oh. Hey,” he repeats, smiling too. “This is an okay food to give a nursing cat, right?”

You look at the can he’s holding up for you, nodding encouragingly. “Yeah, that’s good. The shelter and fosters we work with use that for nursing cats. Wet, calorie-dense, and usually well-liked.”

“Great, those are the ones she’s been liking,” he nods, and then he starts putting the cans into his basket on the floor, one by one until he has at least ten in there. “Can I ask why the food has to be wet? Cause dogs can thrive on… kibble, right?”

“Do you want the short or long answer?” you smile, almost apologetically.

He straightens up, considering. “You know what, give me the long answer.”

You grin, trying to not be too nerdy and still keep it relatively short. “Okay, so, there are biological differences. Dogs, like us, are omnivores, so they can eat all kinds of food groups like meat, vegetables, grains… all that. However, cats are obligate carnivores. It means that they need to eat meat and only meat, really. Theoretically, a dog could do well on a vegetarian diet as long as it’s balanced, but a vegetarian cat would die since they can’t create certain amino acids from things other than meat.”

He listens intently as you explain what you think all cat owners in an ideal world should know.

“Cats also can’t metabolize carbs very well, and their natural diet is very low in carbs anyway—something like a mouse contains roughly one percent of it. But carbs are what make it possible to even create the small, dry balls of kibble to begin with. Look at this,” you point to the closest bag on the shelf, the white cat on it fluffy and licking its mouth.

“Thirty-one percent carbs.”

Jeongguk looks deep in thought. “But then… How come there are so many types of kibble? And shouldn’t cats just… drop dead everywhere? Cause I’m assuming a lot are fed kibble.”

“They usually end up with a subsequent illness rather than just dying directly. Seeing as they have very low levels of liver enzymes that metabolize carbs, and their blood glucose regulation isn’t advanced enough to deal with the ups and downs that higher percentages of carbs bring, feeding dry food is one of the top risk factors for things like feline diabetes. As for why there’s still kibble being sold… Human convenience.”

He looks at the seemingly infinite options of kibble, taking in what you just explained. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. But there’s only so much one can do besides try to educate,” you shrug with a sad smile before nodding toward the canned food in his basket. “But you’ve got a good pick there.”

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice suddenly says, gently squeezing past you to reach for a can on the shelf in front of you.

“Oh,” you say, moving out of her way, “Sorry.”

She’s middle-aged and focused on the item she’s grabbing, but when she straightens up with it in hand, her eyes land on Jeongguk. Seeing him casually watching her, she takes a startled step back.

You look on as she hurries off, and when you lift your head to meet Jeongguk's eyes, he appears unfazed.

“Uh…” you start, trying to recall what you were going to ask. “So, how are they doing?”

Reminded of the kittens, Jeongguk smiles widely. It’s been a little more than a week, and considering he didn’t reach out again, you assumed they were alright.

“Pretty good, I think,” he says, picking up his basket. When he starts to walk, you follow along, not thinking too much about it. “I think I’m doing alright since she’s gaining weight.”

“That’s good to hear. Have you thought about after?”

“After?”

“Yeah, when they’re big enough to leave. Or are you keeping them all?”

You won’t deny that you find the image of Jeongguk as a permanent cat dad of four siblings and their mother absolutely endearing.

“Oh. No, I travel a lot, better they have other homes.”

“Mother cat, too?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking almost apologetic.

“That’s fine,” you reassure. It really is; no shame in realizing your limitations, whether you don’t want to or simply can’t provide the life a pet deserves. “I can let the shelter know if you want. They’ll interview people and have homes lined up when the kittens are ready to leave their mother.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you. What should I do with her then?”

“The mother? We’ll take her too. Have her spayed and in a home of her own.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“You’re the one hand-raising stray kittens,” you shrug, trying to keep yourself from beaming at him. It’s just so nice, what he’s doing.

“It’s honestly been kind of fun,” he smiles, almost reminiscently. “Definitely a new experience.”

“I can imagine.”

Going from not having any experience with animals in general to suddenly being a dad to four fresh kittens must’ve been quite an adjustment.

“Yeah. Anyway, I need to get going,” he says, stopping and turning toward you. “Thanks for the help. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Although you’ve been in love, you never really understood the phrase ‘get lost in someone’s eyes’ until now. You’re not in love—maybe a bit endeared and… attracted—but you get it. Jeongguk’s eyes are so dark and so mesmerizing when he looks down at you in the middle of the grocery store, like it’s just him and you. You’ve never really seen anything like him before. 

“Sure, no problem,” you say, warmth blooming in your chest. 

Doing what you do is purely for the animals’ sake—appreciation is not the point nor a priority, but it’s a nice feeling regardless. Though you hope Jeongguk won’t have another reason to see you professionally, you may admit that you wouldn’t mind running into him in the wild again.

He leaves with a last greeting, and you stay behind, basket still mostly empty in your hand. Confounded, you look on for as long as you can before he’ll eventually disappear out of view. A woman walks past him, doing an obvious double take from over her shoulder. And it’s not just her or the middle-aged woman from before, either. There’s something… subtle yet odd about how people move around him. 

Jengguk is tall, visibly fit, and has a soft aura of confidence surrounding him besides being handsome. It’s not weird that he’d gather attention, looking like Adonis himself, but to this extent? People carefully glance his way, making sure to clear his path even though he doesn’t look like someone who would demand it.

Even the Gen X man—who you recognize just because he’s always in a rush and never looks where he’s going, resulting in him elbowing you on two different occasions—lifts his head from his phone to briefly inspect Jeongguk. It doesn’t even look like they know why they’re doing it. Despite appearing normal enough, It’s like he doesn’t belong in this little town of yours.

You’re still turning it over in your mind as you pay for your taco ingredients, thanking the cashier and telling her to toss the receipt.

Everything fits into one bag and, though it’s heavy, you manage to carry it out into the parking lot. But as you lift your head to look for your car, you spot someone else in the distance, and this time, it’s (unfortunately) not Jeongguk.

One of your old classmates is locking his expensive-looking car, parked farther away from the other cars most likely to prevent scratches. He’s alone, grinning wide when he spots you. 

Not wanting to be rude—even though you know his grin isn’t friendly—you give him the smallest, most emotionless smile you can muster. It’s been ages since you saw him, but from what you can recall, he has family in the area. You pray he won’t stay long; hopefully returning to his overpaid veterinary surgeon position at one of the country’s flashier clinics instead. 

Are you bitter? A little bit. You love your job at the small clinic, and you definitely have everything you need and more, but bad people shouldn’t be successful, and that’s a hill your karma-enthusiastic heart is willing to die on.

After closing the clinic one Friday evening, you hurry home to get ready for a night out with some of your colleagues. There’s always staff at the clinic when you have overnight patients, which isn’t always but most of the time, so to have a night when you and your closest coworkers are all free can’t be wasted. 

Still, you’re on call, just in case anyone needs an emergency vet. There's a bigger clinic on the other side of town, but they don’t do home visits, so if someone’s cow breaks a leg, or a horse comes down with colic, you’ll drive out there and help. It’s only for real emergencies, and while some colics can be treated on-site with a tube, fluids, and meds, most of your late-night calls unfortunately end in emergency euthanasias. Sometimes, an ending is the kindest thing you can offer. 

Being on call also means staying sober.

“They’re assholes,” Nayeon comments, rolling her eyes as Mingyu and Jeonghan pass behind her in the distance, having shot your table an amused nod.

“I know. I saw Joshua last week,” you mutter, following the tall man with your unimpressed eyes.

“Remember when he hit on Nayeon, though,” Yoongi says, smiling lazily before taking a sip of his beer.

His words have Namjoon grinning widely. “Yeah. Public humiliation really is the best punishment sometimes.”

“I didn’t even mean to humiliate him,” Nayeon shrugs. “He deserved it, though.”

“I just hope they’re not staying long,” you say, grimacing. “And why are so many of them here? Seeing one of them is enough of a bummer; I don’t need them all here at once.”

“Wait,” Yoongi says, looking your way with narrowed eyes, “What year did you graduate?”

 You follow his line of thought. 

“...You think they could be celebrating the five-year anniversary? Now? Like… months and months after the actual graduation date?”

Momo shrugs. “I guess it could take some time and planning to gather all successful surgeons and return to a shit hole like this.”

“A belated congratulations,” Namjoon raises his beer. “Your drinks are on me tonight.”

“She’s on call,” Nayeon chuckles, nodding toward your Pepsi Max on the rocks.

Namjoon gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Next time.”

Thinking of your former classmates holding a reunion leaves another bitter taste in your mouth. It’s not like you’d hoped to be invited when you don’t even like them, but… you don’t know. Maybe it’s a reminder of everything that went down and how you’re clearly not welcome in certain circles. But to be honest, a five-year reunion seems almost egotistical. At least wait for the ten-year, right? 

Your sober eyes travel over your friends, all from the small, slightly run-down clinic. 

Namjoon, a general veterinarian, is despite his impressive stature, a sweetheart. He’s black-haired, kind, funny, and a certified academic genius while being almost endearingly dumb street-wise. 

He’s either so used to people looking at him with heart eyes—or he just doesn’t pick up on that kinda thing—because you will often have to point out that someone was very clearly flirting with him.

Nayeon is your ortho specialist. She’s a gorgeous woman with long, light auburn hair who, in contrast, always knows when someone is hitting on her. In addition, she’s sweet and incredibly smart, but sometimes a little clumsy when rejecting people, even though she definitely should be used to it by now. Luckily, Joshua deserved her very honest, surprised, and disappointed “Oh…” and the following “No, thank you.” 

Just like you, Yoongi is a surgical specialist. He’s calm in most situations—in fact you don’t think you’ve ever even heard him raise his voice. Not much fazes him, which is a blessing when it comes to dealing with anxious pets and their often more anxious owners. To be quite honest, you even developed a bit of a crush on the dark-haired, cat-like man when you first started working at the clinic. 

Next to Yoongi sits Momo, your vet tech who currently mostly works the reception. It hasn’t evaded you that all of your friends are suspiciously beautiful, and Momo is no exception. She’s got some of the most iconic black, wispy bangs that are always perfectly in place despite the fact that you’ve never seen her put in any effort to keep them there. Besides her effortless beauty, Momo’s also kind and hilarious and has a superhuman memory that rarely fails her. She can recall almost every single client, no matter if they walked through the doors or just called the clinic’s phone for advice.

They’re happy, each of them wearing that flushed, alcohol-pink glow as they laugh at something you missed. And even if some of your classmates landed higher salaries at fancier clinics, you wouldn’t trade your job or your friends for anything. At the end of the day, it’s not about who gets the opportunity to perform the most advanced, out-of-this-world surgery, but who can really make a difference for regular people and their animal companions.

“You can pay next time you’re on call,” you grin. “I promise I’ll get absolutely wasted.”

“Terms and conditions apply,” Namjoon replies in quick, monotone words. “The receiver can utilize the coupon for a maximum of three drinks, each an hour apart and with at least ten… no, fifteen centiliters of water ingested between them.”

Nayeon laughs, and you roll your eyes at his thorough disclaimer.

“Fine, I’ll abide by your rules,” you agree. “But there’s nothing in them that says I can’t order my own drinks in between.”

He goes to say something but stops himself. Narrowing his eyes, he finally says, “You’re highly educated; you should know better.”

You shrug and take a big gulp of your Pepsi. Namjoon turns to Momo, asking something about her uni classmates. Letting the music and happy voices drown the sound of your coworkers out, you look around the bar, eyes drifting to where you think Mingyu and Jeonghan were headed. 

The bar is packed, more so than usual, even for a Friday night. Thinking about it, you realize that the University semester probably just started, and there are people—maybe even future colleagues—getting to know each other. Your gaze moves slowly over the people, inconspicuously scanning for those familiar faces. If they really are celebrating the five-year anniversary, you hope they do it quickly. Watching them one by one leave town after graduation was a relief, and you’d rather not have them linger.

But your eyes land on another familiar face; one you definitely didn’t expect to see.

Jeongguk.

He’s sitting at a table with a few others, seemingly having a good time. The smile he wears is wide but relaxed, just like his posture—leaned back, his legs spread comfortably. As you look him up and down, you note how your heartbeat increases ever so slightly. What can you say? Sitting there, comfortably confident and dressed in light blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt, he’s just so handsome. His hair looks slightly tousled, even from a distance, and it makes your fingers itch. And the way he grips the glass in front of him, his large, veiny hand bringing it to his mouth… You glance at your own glass, for a brief moment wondering if the bartender interpreted your order as a Rum and Pepsi. 

Your eyes start to drift again, this time taking the time to analyze his company. There are four of them in total, one woman and two other men besides Jeongguk. And they’re all… incredibly attractive. They’re obviously having a good time, and judging by the sheer number of bottles and glasses crowding their table, you figure they must be part of a bigger group. Maybe some are downstairs, dancing?

One of the men says something that has the four of them laughing. He’s black-haired and dressed similarly to Jeongguk. In fact, the only one without black hair is the woman. She’s a light brunette whose hair looks like straight silk, her red, long-sleeved shirt complimenting her skin tone. You can’t see much of what else she’s wearing, as her lower half is obscured from view.

You wonder if maybe they're—

“Shit,” you curse, the glass you accidentally nudged wobbling around on the wooden tabletop. At the last second, you manage to steady it, narrowly preventing your Pepsi from coating the table and everyone’s lap.

“Easy,” Yoongi comments, to which you drop a big sigh.

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

While the conversations around you continue, you make sure to move your glass a few inches toward the center of the table, just to be safe. When Yoongi isn’t looking at you anymore, you can’t help it—you glance Jeongguk’s way again.

Apparently, he happens to look your way the exact same second, and your eyes meet. Judging by his slight surprise, you don’t think he witnessed you almost spill your drink everywhere, something you silently thank the gods for. With a warm smile, he gives you a casual nod. You smile back.

He then looks away, joining his friends’ conversation again.

You do the same, tuning in as Nayeon excitedly talks about a new surgical approach she’s seen her vet med mentor perform.

“So not just a total hip replacement?” Yoongi asks.

Nayeon shakes her head enthusiastically. “No, see, we all know that a THR can be the only or last option for a big dog, and that it’s a huge risk—not just because it’s such an extensive procedure, but because of how fragile they are post-op and during the extremely strict rest period. But if you instead go in and…”

With how unusually crowded it is—especially downstairs by the dance floor where you’re sure you can practically see the body heat fumes climbing upstairs—you fan your face with your hand. 

Momo and Nayeon went to the bathroom downstairs a few minutes ago, but you don’t expect them to be finished within the next fifteen with how long the lines usually are. 

“I’m gonna grab some air real quick.”

Namjoon looks up from his phone, currently waging a google battle against Yoongi regarding some sport statistics you have no idea about. 

“Want me to come with?” he offers, though you know he’d rather stay.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He nods, accepting the re-filled glass of Pepsi you scoot his way for safekeeping, just in case. 

While finding your way outside, you glance over to Jeongguk’s table, only to find it nearly empty. Only the woman and one of the men are still there, a bartender quietly collecting a portion of the empty glasses cluttering the table. You don’t see Jeongguk anywhere, but you don’t search for him either.

The night air feels refreshing against your skin. You’re wearing a long-sleeved but thin black shirt and some jeans, your fall jacket left inside.

A thin metal fence lines the sidewalk—probably to keep drunks from staggering into the very light traffic—and so you move past the smokers gathered by the entrance to find your spot alone, hands reaching out toward the cold, twisted top bar of black metal. 

You don’t mind being sober, even if no one calls for your assistance. Frankly, you really hope no one does, not so much because it would bother you but because ideally, you don’t want anyone to need your help enough to call.

“We meet again.”

You lift your head, seeing Jeongguk coming to stand beside you. He’s not looking at you, but casually at the metal railing as he grips it in his hands.

“Small town, I guess,” you say with a smile that grows wider when he chuckles and looks at you.

Like most people here, his dark eyes are hazy. Yours would be the rare exception.

“How’s it going?” you ask, unable to tear your eyes from his face. He’s just so handsome. You're particularly stuck on his glabella; the area between his eyebrows that leads down to his nose. His bone structure alone would make anyone jealous.

“Do you mean with the kittens or just in general?” he grins.

“Both.”

“Well, the cats are all doing well. I’ve tried not naming them, but it’s not going that well. The smallest is called Mina, and she’s growing very fast now.”

“That’s good! They should be around… three weeks now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But you still don’t know their sex, do you? For the names?”

“No, that’s why I’ve tried naming them somewhat neutral names.”

“Let’s hear them then,” you encourage.

“I think there are three girls and one boy.”

“How come?” “...Vibes.” “Vibes?” you laugh. Despite being so big and (probably) strong, he’s oddly endearing.

“Yes. So there are Mina, Nyx, Angel, and Ruby.”

“Those aren’t gender neutral, though?”

“I said I tried.”

Another laugh escapes you. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. And I’m doing good as well. How are you? You don’t drink?”

It’s the way he’s looking at you, head tilted curiously, that has you lowering your gaze momentarily. It’s much easier to not feel shy when you’re being at least partly professional and talking about the cats.

“I do, but I’m on call tonight. If there’s an emergency—mostly with horses or cattle—I have to drive out there and help.”

“Otherwise you’d be drunk like me?”

You look up, taking in his lazy grin. “Maybe?” you chuckle. “But now I’m just sober and boring.” “I don’t find you boring,” he says, and although it’s casual, it’s also… sweet. A warmth spreads through your chest, and you try not to blush.

“So I didn't bore you to death with my fascination with the supernatural?”

“No. I find it fascinating too.”

“Really? What's your favorite mythical creature then? And why?”

He leans further against the railing, thinking for a second. “Can I say unicorn?”

You smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. “You can, but that’s a cop-out.”

“Hmm, okay, well, vampires are cool and all, but… fairies?”

“Fairies?” You ask in disbelief, eyebrows raised at his peculiar answer.

“Yeah. The Tinkerbell type. Tiny creatures with wings and glitter. Cool but also kinda suspicious.”

Just then, you hear another familiar voice somewhere behind you, calling out to someone. You keep your head forward, hoping he won’t notice you among the others loitering nearby. They have to be celebrating, why else would they all be here?

He greets someone behind you, and when you hear them continue toward the entrance, you glance over your shoulder just to confirm. Yep. DK, yet another of your old classmates. 

“If you plan on staying more than a few days, you should know that being seen with me is social suicide,” you warn Jeongguk once DK is out of earshot.

He looks around, but they’re already entering the bar, talking and laughing.

“Him?” he nods toward the back of their heads. “They’re idiots, you know that right?”

“Yeah…”

You do know that, but it doesn’t change the shame from creeping in whenever they’re near. Or when someone brings up your paper.

“If they bother you, tell me, okay?”

You raise your eyebrows. Sure, Jeongguk is built like a boxer, but you’re not sure what he thinks he could do? He’s one man—who you don’t know that well and who’s never around—vs a group of men. They’re not always present either, but evidently more so than him.

“No offence, ‘cause I appreciate it, but what could you do?” you ask, a little discouraged. 

It’s not like anyone could clear your name in hindsight like this. If anything, the drama has subsided slowly over the last few years, and the best course of action is to just lie low and ignore them; they’ll hopefully leave soon enough anyway.

“I can do more than you think.”

It’s the way his voice drops lower that has you glancing up at him beside you. He’s already looking down at you, his black eyes searching for something.

Then, he seemingly settles on a decision. “Come with me. I wanna show you something.”

“What?”

Though his gaze is still hazy and casual, he’s definitely determined. You follow him a few steps behind—puzzled as to what he wants to show you—as he heads back toward the bar’s entrance.

Most people you pass are wrapped up in their own conversations, so you re-enter the bar unnoticed. But it’s hard to keep up, and Jeongguk ends up waiting for you, watching with something unknown—but positive?—in his eyes.

“Here,” he says, gesturing for you to keep following him.

Without a chance to really question him, you keep following him, still confused. Even more so when he sets sights on the funky little cigarette vending machine, turning right around a corner you didn’t know existed and thought was just a wall in a dimly lit spot. When you catch up to him, a woman is just exiting through one of two doors in front of you, and Jeongguk catches it before it falls shut. You peek inside. A bathroom? You had no idea these existed; just like the majority of people, considering the long, long lines to the bathrooms downstairs.

“What is it? That you want to show me?”

It’s not that you don’t trust him—because, considering how short of a time you’ve “known” him, you do trust him a surprising amount. You’ve been to his house twice. Alone. Not once have you felt uncomfortable in that way around him, but what on earth could he want to show you that requires the two of you, alone in a bathroom? You know he’s not about to show you his dick. 

Right?

“It’s something that’ll really interest you, I promise.”

Does that answer actually tell you anything? You look at him where he’s standing, holding the door to the tiny bathroom open and waiting for you to step inside. 

“You won’t regret it,” he continues when he sees how he hasn’t won you over quite yet.

Well, you’re in a crowded place, and you think you know this man well enough to trust him. You nod. Surprisingly often, people will hear that you’re a veterinarian and use the free opportunity to show you their own rashes or lumps or ask a vague question about a relative’s medical conundrum. That seems more likely to be it, and you’ll just have to offer your opinion—even though you’re not a doctor—and recommend he visit a medical professional dealing with his kind—humans.

The bathroom really is tiny when you enter it a second behind Jeongguk. When the door shuts behind you, and he turns to face you, you're not even an arm’s length apart.

Whether or not you were nervous about following him in before, your heart starts to race when he reaches past you to lock the door. The music is still loud but slightly muffled inside the little room, and the ceiling light seems to be on its last leg, flickering fittingly and very worryingly above you. Does it make it better or worse to see Jeongguk smiling down at you? 

“Give me your hand.”

You look at his outstretched hand. It’s big, angular, and veiny. Masculine. But you can still picture the way he holds the tiny kittens so gently.

Obeying his request, you lift your hand slowly. Taking you by surprise, he grasps your arm instead, just below your elbow, and then he makes sure to pull your sleeve up, exposing a few inches of your wrist. What is he doing?

Your eyes widen when he raises your arm, simultaneously lowering his face to your wrist. Keeping his nose a mere inch above your skin, he draws it along the length of your wrist, inhaling deeply. 

You’re almost about to ask him if and why he’s smelling you, but there’s no time. Because right then, he straightens up—dropping your arm softly—and you watch his black eyes nearly roll back and his mouth open, canines growing like a viper about to strike. There’s a whole new intensity in his eyes when he looks at you again, exhaling that same deep breath like a starved animal having just sensed the smell of its prey.

You gotta get out. 

Seeing your shaky hand reach for the lock behind you, he catches you just as you turn, pulling you back against his chest.

“Hold on, hold on,” he urges as you struggle against his grip, his voice rushed, but just hushed enough that any drunk people outside won’t notice. “I thought you wanted to see a vampire?”

“Let me go,” you say, your words desperate and more air than voice.

What terrifies you most is that despite using all your power to fight his grip, he’s not budging. Not even a fraction of an inch. You don’t know what else you’re going to say—or scream—but he’s got his hand over your mouth before you can even try anything. Of course, it only has you panicking harder.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay?” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just… calm down.”

Never has your heart pounded this hard in your chest, but since it’s evident that fighting him won’t get you anywhere, you try to take a deep breath through your nose.

You only have time for one more breath before there’s an insistent knock on the door. Maybe it catches him off guard, or he just changes his mind, because he eases up for a second.

Instinctively, you twist free from his now looser grip, quickly unlocking the door and swinging it open. A woman stands there, startled to see you rush out, teary-eyed.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks, her words slurred but her concern genuine. You nod and keep walking, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. As you leave—the loud music muffling your rushed steps—you hear a “What the fuck, man?” behind you.

Without looking back, you head straight for your table, desperately looking for Namjoon. He’s alone at the table, typing something into his phone while still safeguarding your drink.

“Here’s your—hey, what’s wrong?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, casually wiping away a tear that escaped as you reach for your Pepsi. The ice has melted.

“Nothing, but… uh, can we leave?”

You sense more than see how he takes in your appearance, clearly noticing that something’s off.

“Did someone do something to you?” he asks, already rising from his seat. 

Namjoon’s not much of a fighter—even with his impressive build as a result from hours spent in the gym—but you don’t doubt he’d beat someone’s ass for you. Especially in his slightly drunken state, flushed cheeks and all.

You look at him. “No. Can we please just go?”

Surrendering, while still looking around as if hoping to catch sight of whoever offended you, he exhales softly. “Okay.”

Despite being drunk, Namjoon almost convinces you to tell him what happened the moment you've dropped the others off at their places. Almost. You admit, watching Nayeon head up the stairs to her building, that a guy bothered you, but nothing more. When asked if he touched you, you say no, and when Namjoon tries to make you describe him, you just say that he had dark hair and was of average height. You can’t pinpoint the reason why, but you know you don’t want to tell him that you know the man. And, of course, what actually happened.

What would you even say? 

<previous | next>

You watch him tilt his head, that slow, deliberate angle that makes your chest tighten and your brain do somersaults, the way droplets of water cling to his skin like little dark jewels that shimmer against the dim bar lights, making you want to reach out, touch, trace, and burn yourself on him all at once. 

His smirk stretches wider, sharper, the kind of smile that carries danger and challenge in equal measure, the kind that feels like a dare written across his lips and his eyes that flick between mocking amusement and something that smells like fire.

“What? I’m not angry, angel. Frustrated,” he repeats, and the word itself hangs heavy in the air, slick and sticky, settling instead in your chest, thick and suffocating. 

He swings his leg over the stool rung, fingers brushing against the worn leather like he owns the world and the weight of it spills over you, and you hate how every instinct in you folds in on itself just to chase the heat of his presence, the tease, the absolute audacity of him existing and being impossible and somehow devastatingly perfect all at once.

“What does it even mean, Jungkook?” your voice comes out smaller than you intend, brittle around the edges, but your hands clench in your lap anyway, knuckles white, nails digging into palms, because you refuse to let him see how undone you are, how dangerously tangled in his gravity you've become, “spell it out for me.”

You can almost feel the thrum of his chest under that wet chest, the pulse like a countdown you didn’t agree to, and you swear if you reach out, if you let him pull you closer, you might just combust right there on the apartment floor.

He runs a hand through his coal-black hair like he’s trying to tame the storm that’s been brewing inside him, but it only makes it worse—because the motion pulls every line of his arm taut, every muscle flexing under the dim gold light that spills like old honey across the room.

His veins gleam like the veins in marble statues—those too-perfect, too-unreal ones sculpted by men who’d never actually seen a body like his. The kind that looks soft until it moves, and then it’s all tension and violence and beauty.

“Was worried,” he says, and it’s not gentle—never is—but there’s something in the way the words fall that sounds like the truth. His voice drags through the air, deep enough to bruise, his eyes sharp and black and maddeningly alive. They glitter with something between anger and panic, that dangerous intersection where care turns into possession, “fucking out of my mind,” he adds, quieter this time, but the quiet only makes it worse, like the volume doesn’t matter when the weight of it is already pressing against your ribs.

And you should just take it—let him scold, let him lecture—but the whiskey you drink before burns through your throat and makes you brave, or stupid, or both, “Why do you even care so much?” it bursts out of you, sharp-edged, reckless. 

The club’s still roaring in your skull, bass echoing like a heartbeat that isn’t yours, and everything feels too bright, too close. Your voice cracks somewhere between exhaustion and defiance, and you grab the glass again like it’ll give you something to hold onto.

He watches you—of course he does—with that smug, lazy amusement that drives you insane. You can feel him looking, can feel his judgment crawling up your skin, his patience thinning by the second. “It’s just a night out,” you mutter, the words slurred but clear enough to stab, “nothing for you to worry about.”

And that’s when he laughs. Not the soft, boyish kind. No—he throws his head back and laughs, all throat and arrogance and sound, like your words are a punchline he’s been waiting for. He leans closer, his smile all teeth and danger, and the scent of smoke and musk hits you like a memory you shouldn’t have kept.

“You’re just too irresponsible,” he tells you, voice smooth, but his jaw ticks like he’s seconds away from saying something that’ll cut deeper. He talks slow, deliberate, like he’s choosing each word with the precision of someone who knows exactly how they’ll land, “What if something happens to you?” the question sounds rhetorical, but his tone isn’t. His whole body tightens when he says it—shoulders squared, arms tense, like he’s bracing for an answer he already hates.

You don’t give him one. you just stare at him, lips parted, pulse pounding so hard you can hear it, “I already told you,” you whisper, each word tasting like defiance and regret, “it’s not your problem.”

His stance shifts. Subtle, but deadly. His spine straightens, his chest rises, and both of his hands plant flat on the bar—broad palms, long fingers, the faintest ghost of veins running up to his forearms. He leans in, slow enough to make you swallow. It's not the kind of closeness that comforts; it’s the kind that demands. The kind that makes you forget you’re supposed to breathe.

And you know that look—you’ve seen it before, that flicker of irritation and fascination, like he’s torn between dragging you into his room and tearing you apart right there in record seconds. The air between you turns sharp, metallic, alive.

‘A challenge’ you think, watching him, unable to stop the smile that creeps up despite yourself. He doesn’t even need to say it out loud. It's already there—in the way his fingers flex against the wood, in the way his eyes pin you down, daring you to keep pretending you don’t care.

His voice folds low, smooth like poured velvet, but there’s an edge glinting beneath it, something serrated, something that hums. Cautious, yeah—but suspiciously soft, the kind of softness that hides teeth. Jungkook hasn’t stopped watching you since the moment you stepped through the door, his eyes tracing you like they’re memorizing a crime scene. He's lounging there—lazy, loose, too confident for someone who’s obviously burning alive inside. 

The room smells like whiskey and some cologne that shouldn’t even be legal, and there’s a dangerous calm in the way he just sits and looks. When Taehyung told him you'd be renting the spare room, he probably pictured someone forgettable, someone plain, someone he wouldn’t have to think about twice. He didn’t picture—you. Didn’t picture the girl from his fantasies—the one he’s tried to scrub out of his head but keeps dreaming about anyway, the one who’d walk in and make his pulse skip like a record that suddenly caught fire.

He smirks then, because of course he does, his lips curling around the rim of his glass before he takes a slow sip. There's a streak of something cruelly beautiful about him when he drinks—his throat flexes, his lashes dip, his smirk lingers like a promise he won’t make but will absolutely keep. 

“Not my problem, mmm?” he says it like a taunt, each syllable soaked in self-assurance, in the kind of authority that only makes you want to defy him just to see what happens next. 

His eyes are searing now, all heat and dare, glinting beneath the dim light that spills from the kitchen. “Whose, then?” he murmurs, sarcastic, that smirk still hanging there, like he knows he’s already two steps ahead of you. His fingers tap against the glass—one, two, three—steady, rhythmic, like the ticking of a clock that counts down to the moment he’ll win.

“I feel like we’re arguing over nothing,” you breathe out, dragging your fingers through your hair, trying to shake the dizziness that comes not from the alcohol but from him. The air is too thick, too charged, his eyes too knowing, “and I don’t want to do that. Not with you, Jungkook,” the words feel too fragile the moment they leave your mouth, too raw to survive the weight of his gaze.

“Arguing?” he echoes, head tilting, that tone—fuck, that tone—is pure mockery and fascination in equal measure. He straightens a little, just enough to look like he’s about to move closer but doesn’t—yet. “I wasn't even trying,” and it’s the way he says it that ruins you, like everything he does is a test you keep failing. The words roll off his tongue lazily, unbothered, but they sting anyway.

Because he knows exactly what he’s doing—every glance, every pause, every dragged syllable designed to pull you closer until you forget what side of the line you were standing on.

And you hate that it works. You hate that you can’t stop watching the movement of his throat when he swallows, the play of his knuckles against the glass, the way his tongue briefly touches his bottom lip when he looks at you. You hate that your chest tightens every time he exhales, that your pulse skips when he smirks, that you can’t decide whether you want to slap him or kiss him. The worst part is he knows it. He's known it since the first second his eyes met yours.

Then he says something like it’s a dare, not a question, his tone dripping with that kind of low, reckless confidence that always manages to crawl right under your skin—“Do you want me bad, hmm?”—and the sound of it alone hits like a struck match.

He’s leaning forward, the veins in his forearms faintly visible under the dim light, eyes catching yours in a way that feels like being caught mid-crime. There's something wild and unguarded in his face for a heartbeat, a flash of emotion too raw to name, bright as lightning before it darkens again. 

The shift is immediate, terrifying, intoxicating—the stars in his eyes swallowed whole by something darker, hungrier, the kind of darkness that doesn’t destroy, only consumes, “Want me to be angry with you?” he murmurs, and his voice isn’t soft anymore; it’s a slow pour of heat, dangerous and deliberate.

You laugh, short, breathless, too much air, not enough sense, and roll your eyes just to give your trembling something to do, “I didn’t say that,” you manage, though your voice betrays you—thin, too quick, laced with the exact tension you're trying to hide. 

Your gaze skitters everywhere but him: the half-empty bottle on the counter, the flicker of neon light slipping through the blinds, the trembling outline of your own hand. Because if you look at him any longer, you'll give it away—that awful, delicious truth that you've been circling for weeks.

But he doesn’t hear you—or maybe he just doesn’t care to. Jungkook never argues; he rewrites. He speaks over your protests, voice slick and slow and criminally certain, “Want me mean and rough?” 

He's smiling now, but it’s not the kind that ends in laughter. It's a slow, wicked curl of lips that knows exactly how much power it has. He's toying with the air between you, shaping it, filling it, making it his.

And the worst part is, he doesn’t need an answer. You could stand here in silence and he’d still know, because he’s watching you like you're a language only he’s fluent in—eyes flicking from the pulse in your neck to the way your chest rises a little too quick, to the faint tremor in your fingers you can’t disguise. He’s decoding you, line by line, until you're just ink bleeding on his tongue.

“I can see it in your eyes, y/n,” he says, and his voice drops lower, heavier, like the weight of your name in his mouth could crush the air right out of you.

“How do they look?” you ask, too fast, and instantly regret it. The question hangs between you, stupid and dangerous, and you can already see the smirk forming before the words even reach him.

He laughs, low and slow, the sound a scratch of velvet, “you ask me how they look?” he repeats, almost gently, but there’s something else hiding under that calm—something molten, something that sparks when your gazes lock again.

He leans against the bar like sin made flesh, elbows pressed into glass, the kind of posture that says ‘I don't need to ask permission to exist here'. The air between you hums, thick as a bruise. 

His voice—low, rough, dripping with that lazy confidence that comes from knowing exactly what he does to people—cuts through it: “Like you want me,” and fuck, he says it like it’s a fact, not a question. Like he’s already found the answer written somewhere in the quiver of your pulse.

“You need to say something sharper—” you tell him, too fast, too breathy, fingers clutching at the hem of your dress under the table because your body’s betraying you, because the shiver in your voice feels like it’s got teeth, “—to sound funny. You know?” you try to coat it in sarcasm, but the sound of your voice doesn’t cooperate—it comes out cracked, too honest, like something peeled raw.

He sneers, and it’s not kind. It's slow, spaced out, like he wants you to count every beat of it, wants you to feel it sink into your skin. He's laughing at you, at how you flinch, how you tense up like you're wired to him, “Wasn’t joking,” he murmurs finally, and you swear even his veins on his forearms are taunting you—standing out, thick and alive under his skin, like they know you're looking. He leans closer, voice dipping just enough to make the world tilt: “they fucking shine every time you look at me.”

“You're imagining things,” you say, waving him off, but your hand moves too wide, too quick, and the room spins like it’s drunk on its own heat. You push up from the stool, pretend you're steadier than you are, that your knees aren’t remembering every time he’s looked at you like that. The dress is too tight, too deliberate; it clings to you like it’s got revenge on you, and suddenly you hate it for making you this aware of yourself.

He watches you like you're a riddle he already solved. To him, you're stumbling, off-balance, all blurred edges and swaying legs—each step a little dare to gravity. He stands fast, towel knotted low on his hips, eyes dragging slow, calculating, like he’s deciding whether to catch you or let you fall, “Did you drink?” he asks, voice caught somewhere between amusement and warning, a soft laugh curling around the edges. You shoot him a look, for asking something so oblivious, that should’ve burned, but it only earns you that half-smile of his, the one that tilts like temptation itself.

“Yeah,” he says, answering himself before you can, “cause you’re staggering,” and there’s something in the way he says it—too gentle to be scolding, too rough to be safe—that makes your breath snag. It's the kind of tone that makes you forget if he’s mocking you or undressing you with every word.

You tell yourself you're fine. Over and over again like a charm, like a curse, like a lie you've practiced so many times it’s starting to sound like the truth. You're fine, you're perfectly fucking fine. Sure, you emptied half the bar and let the mojitos melt down your throat like sugared poison, sure, the margaritas flow in your veins, but you're not drunk. You're not that girl. You can stand. You can think. You can survive the weight of his stare without folding into it. But shit, that look—sharp as a command, slow as honey—makes the ground sway even when you're trying to be still.

You open your mouth to argue, to spit something defensive and brittle, but his voice cuts through you first, low and rough like a matchstrike in a quiet room, “Yes, you do,” he says, not so much accusing as announcing, like he’s narrating your downfall in real time. 

There’s a rasp under his words, exhaustion maybe, or restraint. The kind of tired that sounds dangerous—like it’s one heartbeat away from breaking into something else entirely, “and before I see your ass on the floor, you better sit.”

You blink, breath hitching, because it’s not even the words—it’s the way he says them. Like he’s already used to being obeyed. Like you've already agreed to belong. Then the single syllable—“Now”—he drops between you, heavy and dark and final, and something in you obeys before the rest of you can catch up. His voice lowers again, deeper, thicker, echoing off the walls until it feels like the whole room’s reverberating with him. You feel it in your chest, in your ribs, in the base of your spine.

He moves then, muscles coiling and unfurling with that unhurried precision of someone who knows exactly what power looks like on him. It's not even about helping—it’s about control, the way he closes the distance without really touching, the way the air itself bends toward him. And suddenly you forget everything—the pills you wanted, the reason you stood up, even your own resistance. Your body moves on instinct, not logic. You sat because he told you to. You sit because he made you want to.

Your knees hit the edge of the chair, and you realize too late that you've followed his voice like a siren’s call. The obedience embarrasses you, burns low in your stomach. You sink into the seat, blinking like you've just woken from a spell, half in awe, half in disbelief at how easily you let him win.

“Good girl,” he says, and it’s so quiet it almost doesn’t reach you, but the tone—fuck, that tone—undoes everything you were trying to hold together. It’s soft and heavy all at once, tired in that masculine way that sounds earned, worn, lived in. And the second the words hit, they ruin you. Heat blooms under your skin, sudden and disobedient, pulsing through every nerve that remembers how to want.

And for a moment, you can’t even speak. You just sit there, mouth half-open, breath catching on nothing, like language has decided to abandon you altogether. Your thoughts stumble, incoherent, circling the same impossible question: how the fuck did a two-word praise sound like that? How did it manage to feel like command, confession, and promise all at once?

He says it so casually it almost slips through you unnoticed, like a breeze that smells faintly of sin and something simmering, “Want dinner? I made pasta,” like it’s the most ordinary sentence in the world, like he isn’t standing there in nothing but a towel slung low enough to make the air thick and unreasonable. 

He says it like he isn’t the main course, like you're supposed to focus on the food and not the flash of ink sprawled across his skin, the muscles shifting under the last remnants of bathwater, “Your favorite,” he adds, quiet but smug, and it’s cruel, because he knows exactly what that does to you—how easily he can lace innocence with danger and call it kindness.

You should say something clever, something that stings, but all you manage is, “You seem to be certain of that?” and even though your words come out steady, you can feel the tremor thrumming under your ribs, the way your heart trips just looking at him. It’s ridiculous—you’re drunk enough that everything glows, yet not drunk enough to mistake the sharpness in his smirk for tenderness. He's too composed, too aware of the way he affects you.

He laughs under his breath, that quiet, self-satisfied kind of laugh that makes your spine go rigid. He turns, collecting the bottles scattered across the counter, and you watch him move with the lazy grace of someone who knows they’re being watched, “You know I do,” he says, glancing at you over his shoulder, and the sound of the glass clinking together punctuates the space between you.

“You're always so self-assured,” you say, dragging the words out like a challenge, like maybe you can wound his ego with them. But when he rounds the bar and comes to stand beside you, the light catches on his watch—silver, heavy, deliberate—and you lose the thread of your own defiance. The towel’s still dripping in small glossy trails down his chest, his tattoos half-shadowed by the kitchen light, and you hate how effortlessly he exists.

“What’s so bad about me knowing that much, hm?” he asks, voice slow, smooth, teasing in that low way that should come with a warning label.

“N—Nothing,” you stammer, the word breaking against the edge of your tongue, and you could chew your fingernails to keep from shaking. His smirk widens just a little, as if he’s cataloguing every twitch, every failed attempt at composure. 

He's learned you too well—your darting eyes, your restless hands, your small collapses—and he likes it, the power of recognition, the quiet proof that you can’t fake calm around him anymore.

Then he leans in, just a fraction closer, the metal of his watch hitting the counter with a sharp click, like punctuation at the end of a sentence you didn’t get to write, “Still mad at you, angel,” he says, and it’s not an accusation—it’s a confession, dressed up like a threat. His voice lowers, darker now, roughened by something too heavy to name, “you were making me lose my sanity.”

The words hang there between you, soft but scorching, and before you can breathe, he follows it up—too fast, too close, “Was two seconds away from taking my car looking for you,” the kind of honesty that doesn’t sound like him, that makes your stomach twist.

It hits like a bruise blooming under the skin, slow and deep. He could’ve stayed cold, smug, untouchable—but instead he says that, and it wrecks you. You swallow, guilt curling like smoke in your throat. “I—I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you manage, small and fragile and not nearly enough.

He hums, and the sound is low, noncommittal, the kind that doesn’t ask for forgiveness because it doesn’t need to. It's the sound of someone who’s already made peace with his anger, who knows he’s got the upper hand, “You sorry, hmm?” he repeats, and the smirk returns, lazy, dangerous, “don’t believe you.”

And you know he doesn’t—not because he’s cruel, but because he can see straight through you, because for all the words you own, none of them ever seem to work on him. He reads you the way most people breathe—effortless, instinctive, inevitable. And fuck, it’s infuriating how good he looks doing it.

He keeps pressing, the way only he can—steady, relentless, his voice low and knife-edged with certainty, “You were enjoying making me worried,” he says, not as a question but a verdict, his mouth curling into that maddening half-smirk that makes everything sound like foreplay. 

And maybe he’s right, maybe you were. Maybe you liked knowing you could make him feel anything at all—because this Jungkook; never shows it, never cracks, never flinches, and suddenly here he is, looking at you like you just bruised his calm. But you can’t help it—the smirk crawls up your face before you can stop it, a small act of rebellion painted in pink gloss.

It’s pathetic, really, how much you adore the fact that he knows you this well. That the same Jungkook who spends half his life punching bags, who is usually only concerned only with his gym and ignoring texts somehow finds the time to worry about whether you made it home, whether you're still breathing. The thought sends a weird ache blooming in your chest, honey-sick and humiliating, “You can’t even hide your smile,” he mutters, his tone low and cutting, “know you too damn well to fool me.”

“That's why you’re drinking, mm?” you shoot back, your voice a little steadier than you feel, dragging your hand across the table, not touching him, just tracing the air close enough to make him follow it. And he does. His eyes flick down, glued to the ghost of your movement, and it’s electric—the tension thick enough to bite through. For a second, you forget everything else. The pasta. The clock. The fact that this is supposed to be harmless.

He doesn’t look at you, he devours you. Eyes dragging over every inch, greedy and unhurried, like he’s reading a secret written under your skin, “Don't remember you wearing that dress,” he murmurs, he had already moved on to another topic without even thinking about answering yours, voice husky, a little too genuine, and you feel it like a pulse somewhere low in your stomach.

“You're being nosey, Kook,” you snap before your brain could stop you, and the second the nickname leaves your mouth, his expression changes. A quick flash of something dark, hot, and dangerous lights up his eyes. He hates it—or pretends to—but shit, he loves it too. You can see it in the way his jaw flexes, the corner of his lip curling slow and knowing.

“What? Nosey?” he echoes, all mock surprise and quiet arrogance, “curious in your vocabulary means me being nosey, huh?” and it’s unfair how his voice sounds like that—rough around the edges, worn and grown, the kind of voice that feels like fingers brushing over bare skin. He’s not even trying, and still, every word drips with weight, with control, with that lazy-dangerous kind of dominance that makes you want to both hit him and melt.

“You're just my roommate,” you fire back, mostly to save yourself, to wound him, to do something before you fall apart completely. But he only leans in closer, broad and unbothered, the silver glint of his watch catching the dim light. And you can’t keep your composure—his presence is too much, too dense, too him.

He laughs, low and humorless, and when he speaks again it’s with that effortless, cutting tone that lives somewhere between mockery and sincerity, “Right,” he drawls, “just your roommate who had to call you five fucking times to make sure you weren’t passed out somewhere,” the words hit like a hand gripping the back of your neck—firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

And then, softer, but sharper too, he adds, “For someone so ‘grown,’ you sure like making me feel like an idiot for caring,” and that’s the one that gets you. Because underneath the bite, there’s something raw in it—something that shouldn’t be there. It lands too deep, somewhere between guilt and longing, and you hate that you can’t tell which of you it hurts more.

He stands there, towel loose, eyes dark, waiting. You want to argue, you really do, but your throat’s dry, and all you can think is that he looks like trouble sculpted out of want—every line of his is too deliberate, too familiar. You want to say something that’ll claw back your dignity, but nothing comes out. Only the air between you, thick, trembling, heavy with everything neither of you is supposed to admit.

It starts small, stupid small, like the tick of a pulse behind your ribs — that twitching heat that starts at the throat and leaks into laughter before you can smother it. You try to keep straight, to act bored, but the smirking bubbles up anyway, thin and nervous, the kind that betrays everything you’re pretending not to feel. 

“Can't stop smirking?” he murmurs, but it’s more of a weapon than a question. He says it like he’s peeling something open, like he knows exactly how much that smirk costs you. 

He stays in that slow, dangerous character he built for himself — that lazy armor of his — shoulders all broad and unbothered, the kind of stillness that fills a room with tension instead of peace, “Now I feel I was right,” he doesn’t just say it — he owns it, like he’s tasted the truth and decided it belongs to him. 

And you hate that he’s right, hate that he knows it, because admitting what’s burning between you would make it real, would turn the teasing into a confession neither of you is ready to survive.

And fuck, that voice. It's got this dark gravity to it, all grown-man patience with just enough bite to bruise, “You like making me angry with you,” your breath snags on the word ‘angry’ — like he pressed it against your neck, “What makes you angry with me?” you ask back, quieter than you mean to, voice trying to act brave while your pulse gives you away. Every syllable trembles like it’s made of glass.

He laughs, but it’s not soft; it’s rich, layered, like smoke catching light. It sounds like someone who’s tasted the world and came back spoiled by it. The kind of laugh that knows too much, that hums with old arrogance, “Are you actually asking me what makes me angry?” he hums, one eyebrow sharp, one corner of his mouth already curving.

You nod because you can’t trust your voice not to splinter. He tilts his head, thoughtful, cruel in a beautiful way, then drags his fingers across his jaw — slow, casual, devastating, “Besides your irresponsibility…” he lets the pause linger, watching the air between you grow dense and honey-heavy, “you being a stubborn brat.”

And that word — brat — it hits like a thrown match. You feel the burn spread before you can stop it, cheeks to chest, blooming ugly and red. “What is it?” he prods, eyes flicking up, catching your flinch like a hunter spots a heartbeat in the dark, “Hit a nerve?” his voice dips lower, lazily cruel, drawing it out, and it’s so him — to poke at the wound and call it curiosity.

You want to hate him for it, but he’s looking at you again, really looking, with those deep brown eyes that could talk entire paragraphs without opening his mouth.

“Why are you trembling, angel?” he breathes it like an accusation, like a discovery, and the word ‘angel’ drips off his tongue slow, reverent, wrong. Then, with a half-smile that kills, he adds, “Did I make you excited, hmm?”

And it’s insane, it’s chemical, how his voice makes something low in you pull tight — something you can’t name without burning alive. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He's been playing this game since forever, setting the air on fire and pretending he doesn’t smell the smoke.

“W—What?” it comes out tiny, ridiculous, like a mistake you can’t undo.

His hand rises, slow enough to make time ache, brushing the edge of your cheek with the kind of care that feels dangerous. He's never touched you like this before — never crossed the line from accident to intention. You've lived side by side for a year: shared walls, meals, silences, all of it loaded but harmless. Until now. 

“Your voice,” he murmurs, thumb ghosting near your lip, “it gets higher when you lie. And your lips—” he studies them like he’s cataloguing proof, “they tremble,” the way he says it isn’t even a tease anymore — it’s a diagnosis, and you're the patient shivering under his gaze.

He leans closer, smile fading into something hungrier, “You’re getting a little too excited, angel.”

His hand finds your face like it’s meant to be there, heavy, warm, and so real it feels impossible. It smells like smoke and skin and something darker that curls at the edge of your breath, something that shouldn’t exist outside of a dream. “I—I know I shouldn't ask that,” you manage, your voice a thread pulled too tight, breaking in places, “It's wrong,” ‘wrong’ because the way he’s touching you burns holes through the thought itself, wrong because your lips part when his thumb hovers close enough to feel the ghost of your own exhale. Still, the question tears through you before you can kill it, “What do you d—do with brats?”

His mouth curves, dangerous, slow, a slice of arrogance sharp enough to taste, “You shouldn’t answer those questions?” he murmurs, and the sound of it is silk dragged over flame. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat, deliberate, as if mapping out the pulse there, and lingers— not to threaten, but to claim. His eyes stay on you; half-lidded, unreadable, hungry, “Want to know what I do with a brat like you?”

One finger hooks beneath your jaw, the others splayed across your cheek, forcing you to look straight at him— and fuck, he knows it, knows how the gaze itself wrecks you more than anything else could, “Better if I show you, baby,” he says, voice a low hum that drips straight through your chest.

The air thickens, heavy with everything unspoken, the space between you a live wire humming. I can't tell who’s going to break first, only that something’s about to snap— him, you, maybe the whole room. His breath skims your lips, so close you can taste him already, that electric charge of heat and lust and want, “I know you’re waiting for my move,” he whispers, eyes half-shut, all hunger. Then, slower, crueler, “You know I want it even more? I want to kiss you till you can’t feel your lips. Till they’re swollen and mine.”

His smile is feral. You don't think; you just move. Your hands find his hair, tug, pull him down to you, and when our mouths collide it’s all teeth and heat and ruin. He sneers into the kiss, a quiet, smug thing, before it dies under the sound of you— the wet rush of breath and tongue, the way his hands find your hips, fit around you like he’s known you forever. You can't breathe right; can’t think, can’t stop. His lips are soft but his hunger isn’t; it’s rough, greedy, unrelenting, the kind of kiss that leaves a mark somewhere no one can see.

The tension doesn’t break; it mutates, heavier, deeper, like you've both stepped into something you can’t back out of, “Why didn’t I do it earlier?” he asks between kisses, voice half wrecked, half wonder. And before you can answer, he’s on you again—devouring, claiming, his hands already learning the edges of you, waiting to pull you all the way under.

Then he takes you, his hands clamping on your hips with a deliberate, almost territorial grip that makes your pulse stutter and your stomach coil into itself, something primal in you obeying the weight and pull of him like gravity just switched sides, you eyes snapping to his; wide, dark, dilated pupils glinting like molten chocolate caught in shadows, “Come sit with me,” he murmurs, voice low, hushed, a velvet growl that wraps around your name, his hands engulfing yours entirely, fingers lacing and bending around yours like they were always meant to hold you captive, not leaving you a sliver of choice, “On the couch, baby,” he adds, gaze devouring you so thoroughly you swear you could combust just from existing under it.

As you move toward him, every step dragging like syrup, your eyes locked on his like magnets, your breath shallow and uneven, you can't stop drinking him in—the curve of his jaw, the slight glint of sweat catching the light, the way his shoulders slope just so, casual power in every line of his body, and then his voice drops again, the sound rumbling straight into your bones, “Isn't that dress too short for this season?” and just like that, the spell he had you under shatters, cold water slashing across your consciousness, your cheeks flare, but still you fight it, lift your chin, stubborn, defiant, “Not for you to decide that,” you declare, pride flaring in your chest like flames licking your ribs, because you can claim ownership of your choices just as much as he claims his.

He hums, a low vibration that resonates like it’s felt in the pit of your stomach, and then he nudges your hand with one finger, light but precise, as if he owns the couch, as if he owns this space, this moment, “Not for me to decide what you want to wear?” he repeats, slow, deliberate, as if questioning your defiance, testing it, tasting it, and then, a smirk threading through the words, “Sure, pretty thing. Tell yourself that,” his arrogance curling around your spine, pressing you down, suffocating you in the sweetest, sharpest way, leaving you with no choice but to endure, to play the game he’s already mastered.

And then, commanding, relentless, “Come sit,” a single order, no room for hesitation, no room for argument, and when your defiance flickers, he pushes it further, voice clipped, razor-sharp, “Sit. Now,” and like a marionette with strings too strong to resist, you sink into him, hips meeting lap, dress inching impossibly higher with every breath, every subtle shift, exposing flesh that burns under his stare, the brush of his toweled skin against your palm sending shivers, low moans trapped behind your teeth, “Want to get rid of that towel?” he asks, voice intimate, knowing, reading you like a secret, your panic and desire coiling in one hot mess of confusion and want.

He studies you, unwavering, belief in his gaze pressing into you, no pretense left, “Aren’t you the shy one, baby?” he teases, dark amusement in his eyes, tugging mercilessly at the thread of your restraint, adding, almost casually, “wasn’t even trying to hide that,” and it’s like he’s dissecting you, limb by limb, thought by thought, pleasure and mortification tangled so tight in your chest that you can barely breathe.

“I know you’re horny, baby. I know,” he continues, voice a velvet whip, each word coiling around you; binding you, feeding you desperation, pushing you further into the heat of yourself that you can’t contain, can’t control, and then, a stutter escapes your lips, a confession and a plea all at once, “C—can you…can you, p—please do…” your words tremble, your body on fire, hungry for him, raw and desperate and entirely exposed, and he knows it, feels it, revels in it, understanding without a single misstep the exact weight of your need.

And he teases, stretches it, pulls it taut like a rope ready to snap, “Oh, and you want me to do something about it?” and just like that, you are undone, every nerve alight, every thought twisting into want, because he knows you, knows the exact spots that ignite, the exact words that strip you bare, and you are entirely, helplessly, deliciously under his control; burning for him, trembling for him, waiting for him to decide exactly how far he’s going to take this, how deep into the fire he’s going to pull you, and you'd follow him anywhere, anywhere at all.

But he needs to feed you another lesson; if you want to be or appear smarter and sharper than him, you need to be more clever to play at the same league as he, and just like that, the words fall from his lips like knives wrapped in silk, sharp but smooth, teasing, daring, a challenge and a trap all at once, "Can't big girls do it on their own? Aren't they already too 'grown-up' for stuff like that?" his voice is clipped, precise, like he’s measuring the heat of the room against the pulse of your spine, and suddenly you’re acutely aware of the way your stomach twists, the way your thoughts fumble, your pride waging war against that pull he has on you, that effortless gravity that makes you want to argue and melt at the same time.

Your hip rocks back and forth, slow at first, testing the waters, feeling him beneath you, feeling the press of his hands on your waist that aren’t just there to hold you — no, they’re there to remind you, to command you, to make you painfully aware that every little flick, every tilt, every accidental brush of your skin against his is like lighting a fuse on a fire you can’t put out, because he’s hard in mere seconds, impossibly fast, and the heat of him against you, the way his body tenses under your movements, it’s a warning and a temptation all at once, and you can feel it in your chest, tight and fluttering, a rush of blood to your cheeks that makes your own words tremble when you murmur, “You’re being rude, Kook.” 

It comes out clipped, sharp, a little defiant, a little breathless, and you know he hears it the way he hears everything — not just the words, but the undercurrent, the little shiver behind them, the tiny flicker of control i try to hold on to but he’s already dismantling with just his gaze, with just the curl of his smirk, the lazy, dangerous tilt of his head, like he knows exactly what you're thinking before you even think it, and fuck, it’s infuriating, maddening, and delicious all at once, making your mind spin even as your body betrays you, wanting, needing, and aching to give in but trying — oh, fuck, trying — to pretend you have a choice.

"I’m not rude, angel," he curses under his breath, low and rough, a vibration that drags straight through your chest, rattling your bones and heating your skin, and you can feel it in the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his jaw, the way his hands tighten just a fraction more on your waist as you push harder; against him, testing him, teasing him, seeing just how far you can make him react without shattering him entirely — but oh, fuck, he’s already reacting, already hard in ways that make your stomach coil and your thighs slick, and he exhales, slow, deliberate, a sound that is equal parts warning and claim, and you hear him: "Not rude for telling the truth," clipped, precise, sharp enough to cut through the haze of your spinning thoughts, and you know he’s losing patience, that thin thread of composure unraveling at the edges because you're still misbehaving, still moving, still rolling your hips against him like a challenge.

And it’s infuriating and thrilling and terrifying all at once, because he’s supposed to be in control, and yet you can feel the pull of him, the tension in his chest, the brush of his fingers that hold me just so, reminding you that even when you think you're wild and untouchable, you're entirely, completely, deliciously at his mercy, and that knowledge makes every nerve in your body ache and hum and want.

Your whole face is on fire, every inch of it blazing like you've swallowed the heat and it’s crawling under your skin, hot and electric and impossible to hide, because why bother hiding it when he’s already seen it all — every twitch, every tiny rebellion you thought you were sneaking past him, and it’s laughable, really, how completely useless your little attempts are, because he knows, oh, he knows you.

Better than you know yourself in these moments, knows the way your pulse spikes when his hands linger a little too long, the way your chest tightens when his gaze latches onto you like a predator that’s both amused and hungry, “Don’t blush now. Too late for that,” and it’s clipped, it’s hushed, but it’s soaked in the heat of him, of you, and you feel it thrum through your veins, that low, dangerous vibration in his voice that curls under your skin and makes you want to obey before you even know what you're obeying.

"Nah, angel. Don't reach your hand for my dick. You can't touch it without my permission," he argues with your movements, a slow, deliberate tug here, a pause there, his hands on your waist firm and unyielding like he’s mapping out exactly where you end and he begins.

Until he shifts them, sliding up over the curve of your hips with that casual, infuriating precision that makes your brain short-circuit, and suddenly you're trembling, fingertips grazing the heat of him through the thick towel that clings impossibly to the hard line of his shaft, teasing, hiding, daring you to want more than you have permission for, and you can feel it, the tension, the ridiculous, maddening thrill of touching him without touching him, and your mind is a delicious mess of want and guilt and sharp, gleeful defiance that has no chance of winning.

Before you can even draw a breath, he catches your wrist mid‑motion, his fingers circling it like a sentence he’s decided to rewrite, “No, no, baby. We're doing it on my terms,” the words slide out of him like smoke, slow and deliberate, the kind that stains.

“B—but…” it comes out more tremor than speech, the sort of small sound that betrays too much. He hears it; of course he does. It's the kind of thing he collects — the stumbles, the hesitations, the way your voice folds in on itself when his attention turns heavy.

He ‘tsks’, a soft punctuation that cuts sharper than a shout, and you still instantly, the air between you contracting into that charged silence that hums louder than noise, “No, angel. You don’t get to argue with that,” the words aren’t cruel, just carved — final in the way a line drawn through a page ends all debate.

He's smiling now, not kindly but beautifully, like someone who's already read the ending and is amused by your attempts to change it. It's that look that makes everything in you want to rebel and obey at once, "Yeah," he murmurs, tilting his head, voice a velvet threat, "you don't have a say in it."

He keeps talking, while his other hand comes to your ass to stroke your skin there, with his hands, with his calloused and much stronger hands, wrapped around there, "You were bad, remember? A brat doesn't deserve a cock in her cunt," he talks too explicitly, too dirty, but it makes it raw and needy, makes you heady and a bigger mess, a complete mess for him.

His voice is starting to sound soothing, more dominant than emotional, which keeps your eyes trained on him, on the way he talks and makes you feel his assertive nature, his more mature nature, "A bratty girl like you should earn it," he slaps your ass once to make a statement, then palms there as if apologizing for it.

"How can I do it?" your eyes dilated, and he knows the effect he has on you, but he keeps on pretending and pressing his dark and slightly possessive energy on you.

He asks you then, sounding genuinely interested, "Want me to tell you how?" but then he laughs, dry and manly, he builds from indifference and cold nature, so it comes easily to him, "Angel, let's not make it harder than it is. We both know the answer."

He makes a statement, clear and with no other meaning behind it, "On your knees," when he sees you become shy again, not too fast to comply he nearly growls, "- Now."

His voice is like a siren to you, all you need to do is to follow his commands like in a trance, your knees trembling when you came down on your knees, keeping eye contact with him, "Look at your legs. You're shaking, baby. Why's that, huh?" his eyes are glowing and it makes you wonder how much composure he has, before he loses it all.

When you sat, he only faced you, coming to you to put a hand around your throat to see your eyes close; to see them roll all the way back to your skull, to glance at what's behind them, "Weak at your knees?" he asked you then, awaiting your answer, that didn't come, "Tell me, baby."

You just gaze at the way his face looks rougher at the edges, more adult and mature than it was before, you're sure of that, you can't keep your eyes on him, so they fall to the ground, but his hand on your throat forces you to look at him again, "Did I stutter?"

"You're the reason," you whine, when he pushed his hand on your throat more properly, more securely.

He praises you instantly, with such an attitude from him, such a character that seems more like a challenge, "Atta girl," he continues then, with even more feeling, more thoughtful, "I know I'm the reason. Just want you to speak to me."

His hand comes to your hair and pushes it through your hair, making your eyes trained on him again, nobody but him, "On your knees. That's a place for bratty sluts who misbehaved."

You can't keep your hips from making friction with them, to see his face become more serious around the edges, "Already rolling your hips," he hummed, as if judging you for what you're doing, "Enjoying this a little too much, aren't you?"

He accepted your behavior to his advantage, pushing you to your limits, "You are closing your legs together, mhm," he makes you accept your actions, to make them known, to let you know that he can see them, can feel them as much as you, "Do you feel the heat between them?"

"Mhm" you only hummed, because your head is spinning, you're already losing your mind and you can accept your defiance to him.

He only laughed again, making you feel small and rough under his stare, "Look at you," his voice is dripping honey and venom, all at once, "Desperate and cockhungry."

He makes it obvious that even when you're not so much as talking, he still can hear you breaking and having a breakdown while he touches you like that, "Can hear your voice trembling, baby. Don't be nervous around me."

"Jungkook, don't you think it's weird? We're roommates," your voice is broken and small, while his is still assertive and rough as always.

He's talking dirty back, just to see you crumble, "You think it's weird to fuck your roommate?" he adds that to make a meaning behind his words, "Do you also think that it would be weird me fucking you good and filling you to the brim?"

You close and roll your eyes back, because he became uncontrollable and too much for you to stand, you whine around him, feeling his hot breath near yours, "There she is. Can already see you losing control," he's saying, as if his control is not as thin as yours.

"But I won't do anything tonight. Can't have you drunk. I'm not that fucked in the mind," his hand is on your face again, but you can see that's a half truth, you know he can do much more than that, but wouldn't change it for now, "Doesn't sound too hard, right baby?"

He glares first, like the air itself dared to breathe without his permission, then laughs—a sound that isn’t quite kind, isn’t quite cruel, just threaded with something that makes your pulse stumble, “You’re agreeing too fast, angel,” the word lands like a test, not a nickname. His voice roughens on the edges, gravel pulled through silk, and every syllable feels like it’s weighing you, judging if you even understand the game you just agreed to play.

You should say something clever, something that will cut clean through that tone and prove that you can stand your ground. But the words curl up and burn before they reach your tongue. His eyes flick down, up again, deliberate, the kind of look that reads more than you meant to write, “My smart girl,” he says, not praise but prophecy, like he’s already decided what kind of creature you’re going to become under the weight of his attention. Then quieter, a smirk twisting through his next breath, “My fucking favourite girl.”

He’d had enough of the stalemate, enough of the teasing distance between you, and when he finally sat back on the couch it was like the whole room bowed with him, the air itself shifting its allegiance, “Now,” he said, the word falling heavy and unhurried, “be obedient slut for me,” there was an authority in it that made your breath catch, something that demanded attention without needing to raise its voice. His hand found your hair again, the motion both a command and a warning, and you could feel the weight of his expectation before he even spoke another word.

You moved slow—deliberate—testing the edge of his patience, testing your own ability to stay composed while under that stare. Every second stretched like molten glass, soft and dangerous. He watched, saying nothing at first, just tilting his chin slightly, a nod that could mean go on or prove it, you couldn’t tell which. It wasn't even about the act itself anymore—it was about whether you’d follow through. about the quiet gravity he had when he wanted to see what you’d do next.

He leaned back, all lazy menace, the kind of posture that pretends to be eased but radiates command. One hand disappeared into yours hair, fingers tangling like he owned the gravity there, like he could tilt the whole room if he wanted. “Get rid of that towel. Go on,” he murmured, low and steady, more a challenge than an order.

And you did, slow on purpose. You wanted to see what restraint looked like on his face, if it cracked or held. His eyes tracked every motion like he was taking notes on the pulse beneath your skin. He didn’t hurry you; he didn’t have to. His silence did it for him—sharp, exact, all edges, “Yeah,” he said at last, almost a sigh, almost approval, “Keep going. Push it all the way down”

You looked at him then, eyes darting for any sign, searching for the brush of a hand, the shift of a gaze, the spark in a half-smile, the one that always made your chest flutter like a thousand trapped butterflies. 

You tried to keep yourself steady, but the weight of his presence was impossible, broad and looming like a storm just before it breaks, and somehow, even in the silence, you felt every pulse, every quiet calculation he made, “Don’t look at me puppy eyes. Put your hand on my dick,” he said, clipped and sharp, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, like he could see the chaos you tried to hide behind your own careful composure, and you realized, half in awe, half in dread, that he always could.

"Slowly up my thigh," your hands traveled up as he told you to, "Hmm…like that. Wrap your hand around it." He's much bigger than anyone you've touched, much broader and thicker. You think you're losing your mind just looking at it.

"Stroke it, hmm," his head arched back, and he moaned slightly. His hand was still on your hair, keeping you at his will. "Not too fast, baby," he whined when you started stroking him, trying with all your might to make him feel good.

His head snapped back toward your face when you stroked him much faster and stronger than he wanted you to, "What did I tell you? Not too fast," he scolded you roughly, before his head spun back onto the head of the couch, waiting for you to continue your actions.

Your hands tremble as they wrap around him, feeling the heat beneath your fingers, the rigid pulse of him throbbing against your palm, and every nerve ending in your body ignites, humming and buzzing and aching all at once, your knees digging into the soft carpet, legs shaking like a marionette’s strings pulled too hard, hips tilting and grinding without thought, instinct taking over entirely.

Your head tilting back and forth as you study the curve of his body, the way his chest rises and falls, broad shoulders catching the dim light, the towel now long forgotten, the scent of him thick in the air, musky and intoxicating, almost too sharp for you to breathe, and your tongue darts out, wet and eager, tasting the salty precum that escapes him, trembling at the power it has over you, a raw, magnetic pull that makes your stomach twist, makes your heart hammer against your ribs like a warning and a promise at once.

You lean closer, dragging your lips along the length of him, lips hot and slick, teeth grazing carefully, teasing, tasting every ridge and vein, feeling the hard pulse of him against the back of your throat, the way his hips twitch in response, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, and you let yourself melt into it, swallowing and sucking, letting your mouth explore, greedy and reverent at the same time.

Each motion measured yet desperate, a dance of need and obedience, your tongue flicking, tasting, coaxing, as your hands keep him steady, anchoring him to you while the world narrows to the sound of his breathing, low grunts and sharp exhales, the warmth of his skin against your palms, grounding you even as you lose yourself completely, body and mind consumed by the friction and the heat and the raw, beautiful domination of the moment, a crescendo building in every muscle, in every nerve, in every sigh and whimper that escapes you, and you take him deeper, closer to that edge.

You feel him shiver and tremble under your lips, the way he presses down on your head, demanding, guiding, teaching you in the most primal way possible, until finally, when it all tips over, the tension snaps, a flood of release crashing through him and through you, his hands clutching your hair, yours gripping him like an anchor, swallowing and savoring.

There’s no vision accompanying the sound, only the bleakness of the back of your eyelids, and yet it’s so vivid you swear he’s beside you in bed. 

He’s singing to you in a language you don’t recognize, although if you have to guess you’ll say it hails from somewhere in Asia. The syllables and phrases sound undeniably old as though no one has spoken it in the last couple hundred years. It’s beautiful regardless of its origin or age, and the mysterious lyrics paired with the serene melody lull you into an even deeper slumber. 

You gasp awake the following morning, almost shocked you’re still in your own bed after listening to the alluring song all night. Even without picturing anything like a normal dream, the music alone seemed to transport you to a different realm of imagination. 

Shaking your head to and fro to bring yourself back to the real world, you regretfully leave the warmth of your bed so you can ready yourself for the day. 

As you brush your teeth while staring down your reflection, you wonder how your mind managed to conjure up such a gorgeous serenade. Perhaps you heard something similar while watching tv or it was playing in the background of a cafe or store. Whatever the answer may be, you don’t consider it much after spitting your toothpaste out and hoping in the shower. 

Until you fall asleep again that night and the song returns only moments after shutting your eyes. 

Two weeks go by of you hearing the same recurring melody in your head, and that’s when you deem it weird enough to head to the library for an answer. 

You start with physical books, figuring if the song is as old as you think, your chances of finding it there will be better than with a computer. Scouring through encyclopedias and textbooks galore, you spend the first half of the morning with your nose between dusty, old pages. Which does, in fact, yield some results once you compare your haphazard chicken scratch of the lyrics to a foreign language book and find that the words are similar to Korean. Armed with your new discovery, you return to the twenty-first century by researching the history and past variations of the language on your laptop. 

It turns out Hangul has gone through multiple different iterations across the centuries, and each one seems closer than the last, but the written history of the language ends before you find an exact match. Further confusing you because you must have heard it somewhere if it’s appearing in your dreams, but the more you search, the less you find. 

The day ends with Shazam, YouTube, and plain ole Google to find the song or even the singer, but none of the applications recognize the tune and you begin thinking you created both the ballad and its owner out of thin air, which shouldn’t be possible. 

When the sun sets and you’ve yet to leave the library or consume anything besides iced coffee, your roommate comes to rescue you. 

Emily, who happens to also be your best friend, walks into the large building like a woman on a mission. The fire in her eyes immediately tells you she means business and is going to stop you whether you want to or not.

“Em —“

“Girl,” she interrupts you. “I haven’t seen you all day, where have you been?”

“Here,” you answer like it’s obvious. 

She rolls her eyes while occupying the seat across from you.

“Is this about that song?” You nod sheepishly and let your head fall into the open book on the table. “I honestly don’t get why it’s bothering you so much. Dreams are weird! What else is new?”

“You don’t understand,” you groan. “It isn’t just a dream. I feel like someone is beside me singing directly into my ear. And how do you explain it being in a language I don’t speak and the voice of someone I don’t know?”

Emily shrugs before standing up and extending her hand out.

“Let’s just call it a mystery of the universe and go about our day, yeah?” Albeit reluctantly, you take her hand so she can pull you up. “It’s Friday night! We’ve got partying to do.”

You chuckle at her lack of priorities, but follow her to the doom room to get dolled up anyway.

Partying, clubbing, and drinking aren’t necessarily your favorite activities, but you adore spending time with your best friend and she always makes nights out enjoyable for you. It isn’t the activities themselves you don’t prefer, but the company that comes with the territory. 

It’s a secret only you, Emily, and God knows that you’re still a virgin despite being in your early twenties and an active socialite. 

The decision to remain celibate all these years is one you made all your own and isn’t for lack of options. You’re waiting for the right person to give your body to and it certainly isn’t going to be one of these grubby college guys who constantly try getting with you. You aren’t ashamed of your choice to wait, but going out can be difficult when everyone assumes you’re there to find a sexual partner for the evening. 

Emily acts as your first line of defense in those scenarios. Either by pretending to be your girlfriend or simply scaring them away, she makes it so you can have fun without being bothered by members of the opposite sex trying to bring you home. 

Although, sometimes you don’t mind the attention as long as you’re able to maintain your firm boundaries. Like tonight, when a handsome fellow student offers to buy you a drink and fervently agrees with you when you make it clear you won’t be coming home with him. Sure, men love to lie, but Emily gives you an assured look from across the bar telling you she’s got your back. So, you take his hand and allow him to lead you to the dance floor. 

You dance together through a few shitty songs the DJ very poorly mixes together, but you have a good time regardless of the random beat drops. His hands remain in a conservative position on your hips while you sway side to side and enjoy the feeling of his chest pressing on your back. 

There’s a brief lull between songs and you feel a cool breath on your neck right as the music becomes quiet enough.

“Y/N.”

Hearing your name makes your brow scrunch and you glance back over your shoulder. 

“How do you know my name?”

“Huh?” Your dance partner leans in towards you. “I didn’t say your name.”

Right on que, there’s another whisper.

“Y/N.”

The syllables have a slight musicality to them, as if the person is singing your name, and that’s when you recognize the voice.  

Shock and confusion forces you out of the stranger’s embrace. He reaches for you while asking what’s wrong, but you shake your head and weave through the crowd of bodies to quickly escape the dance floor. 

Once you’re free from the congestion, you frantically look around before pushing open the squeaky bathroom door and locking it behind you. Gripping the sink until your knuckles turn white, you inhale and exhale while counting each breath that moves through your lungs. 

It’s one thing to hear a mysterious voice in your dreams, it’s another entirely for him to visit you while you’re conscious. A dream you can rationalize away; this you cannot. 

After taking a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing heartbeat, you leave the bathroom to find your best friend. She’s still at the bar talking to a girl who’s precisely her type and you feel guilty about stealing her away, but you have to get out of here.  

“Em!” 

Her eyes momentarily search for the source of her name before landing on you. She enthusiastically waves until noticing your distraught expression and immediately jumps into protector mode.

“What’s wrong?” 

Her lady friend’s face distorts, but Emily pacifies her with a wave of her hand conveying you aren’t a threat in that regard.

“I’m… um… just ready to go, if that’s alright?” 

Fear and anxiety are evident in your features and Emily doesn’t hesitate to take your hand after apologizing to her companion. The two of you exit in a hurry, the chilly autumn air encompassing you and helping to clear your head as you walk home together.

“Did that guy do something to you?” You shake your head. “Then what’s going on, babe?”

“He said my name.”

“Who?”

“Him.”

“You mean —”

“Yes!”

Emily shakes her head back and forth like she’s trying to use the action to make sense of everything.

“Well, it must be because you’re drunk.”

“I had one drink,” you correct her.

Her mouth snaps shut when your response silences any possible retort waiting on her tongue. It’s obvious how scared you are and in order to avoid being dismissive, she stops applying logic to the strange situation and decides to just be there for you as best she can.

Once you’re home and getting ready for bed, you exclusively think of your allusive dream man saying your name tonight. The syllables and vowels rolling off his tongue were as beautiful as his song despite having no melody. It initially terrified you, but now there’s a piece of you craving to hear it again.

It’s still a mystery whether he’s real or merely a figment of your imagination, but he certainly feels like more than just a voice in your head.

A feeling which is validated when things change that night. As soon as dreamland whisks you away, the familiar song filters into your subconscious, but then the darkness begins moving the same as fog creeping in at dusk. The smokey presence encircles you like a pair of arms holding you tight and even the volume of his voice gets louder as though he’s kissing the shell of your ear. 

It sends shivers down your spine while goosebumps form on your skin, yet the reaction isn’t out of fear. In fact, you wish you could open your eyes to meet the owner of the ghostly limbs. 

His presence is all-encompassing and so intense it feels like there’s a physical weight pressing down on your chest. The new element to your recurring dream solidifies to you that there’s no way you're making this all up. He feels too real, too much, to be something conjured up by your own mind. 

You wake up with a shuddering gasp while clutching your head in both hands after spending the entire night being sung to and surrounded by him. None of this should be possible and yet you’re certain about what you experienced. 

Emily isn’t awake, so you spend a moment in bed calming your racing, worrisome thoughts before heading to the bathroom in hopes of washing all your convoluted emotions down the drain. 

Nighttime continues just the same for a couple more weeks, but you don’t do any research about the new development. You know when you inevitably find nothing it will only cause more stress, so you let the dreams continue without any real answers while hoping he’ll go away on his own.

You and Emily have a plan to spend a night out on the town with a couple friends tonight. It’s pretty standard to head to a bar or house party every weekend, but midterms just ended so all of campus will be out celebrating. It’s the first time you’ll be going out since the night you heard his voice and it would be a lie to say you aren’t nervous it’ll happen again. Alas, you’re only young once and you refuse to miss out on the action because of your fear of the unknown. 

There are empty cans and wine glasses, makeup tools, and clothes strewn all around your room as you prepare for the evening. Emily and two of your mutual friends who live across the hall are each occupying a corner as you all simultaneously do your hair, makeup, and choose your outfits. Emily and Hannah are deciding between two dresses while you’re applying mascara to your lashes. Shelby is still curling her hair and also happens to be preoccupied with arguing with her long distance boyfriend on the phone. 

“I do not envy that,” Emily notes while standing behind you and checking her ensemble in the mirror. 

“Nope, not even a little bit,” you concur.

Hannah joins you both to fix her lipstick that unfortunately smeared all over her teeth.

“I don’t know, maybe fighting every now and then is worth it to have consistent dick in your life,” she comments.

You roll your eyes.

“Having someone to fuck should be the cherry on top, not the reason you date them.”

Hannah and Emily make eye contact with knowing expressions. 

“You’re such a romantic, Y/N,” Hannah states.

Shrugging in response to her comment, you drop your mascara tube and stand to get dressed. 

“Maybe so, but I know what I want and am willing to wait for it,” you reply.

Emily smiles and squeezes your shoulders in support.

“As you should, babe.”

The four of you eventually finish dolling yourselves up and head towards the club everyone will be at tonight. It’s a different establishment than the bar you went to last time, but is in the same general area downtown. 

Upon arriving you immediately notice the place is packed beyond belief. Even though you expected it to be busy, the hordes of people definitely don’t ease your anxiety and you automatically grab Emily’s hand to bring her to the bar for your first round of drinks. 

The goal is to let loose following your exams and you aren’t going to let your worries about this mystery man dictate your actions, especially when you aren’t even certain he exists. If he wants to have another one sided conversation with you, so be it. 

With that in mind, you spend the first half of the evening drinking and chatting with men around the bar. The only issue is you can’t bring yourself to step onto the dance floor. Every time you do, something in your brain puts a complete halt on the movement and your companion eventually leaves to find a different dance partner. You don’t hear his voice or feel his presence, but there seems to be a mental block preventing you from engaging with anyone else.

You’re currently on caller number five, who’s a handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus a couple times. He’s ordering you another drink with his arm resting on the bar stool behind you and by now you’re drunk enough not to be too nervous, but you end up feeling stone cold sober when an icy chill crawls up your neck. 

There’s no rhyme or reason why you move so instantaneously, but without another thought you’re pushing your chair back to find the exit. Skirting past all the warm bodies occupying the already tight space, you finally reach the door and nod at the bouncer before stepping past him into the night.

As soon as the cool air nips at you, your teeth start chattering as you shiver from the harsh breeze. You wrap your arms around your torso while stepping away from the club to lean against the building. Inhaling the fresh air around you seems to calm your mind and you’re thankful for whatever force led you outside, whether your own brain or something else. 

While taking a moment just to breathe, you absentmindedly gaze out across the street. When you do, your eyes land on a man with quite possibly the most striking set of features you’ve ever seen.

Even though he’s a couple yards away across the pavement, you can see his raven hair and large, matching eyes as well as his pink lips, round nose, and sharp jaw. He effortlessly takes your breath away and you’re positive you’ve never seen him before because you’d remember a face like his. Yet the longer you stare, the more you swear you know him from somewhere. His aura is so familiar you can taste it on the tip of your tongue and despite the distance, you can feel intense energy radiating from him where you stand. 

Your reaction must amuse him because his lips quirk up in a smirk before he turns on his heel to leave in the opposite direction. 

Once he’s out of sight, you quietly gasp to replace the missing oxygen from your lungs. Never in your life have you experienced such a charged encounter and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was a dream. 

The illustrious meeting frazzles you too much to return to your previous endeavor, so you message your friends and hail a cab to take you home. 

You remove your makeup and change into your pajamas in a flash, for the first time actually wishing to fall asleep and return to your nighttime companion. The different occurrences tonight were just so bizarre that the familiarity of your dream man’s song and touch are a comfort to you in comparison.

Although he does greet you soon after shutting your eyes, it isn’t how you expect; not the way he has for the last month or so. 

Tonight, the presence which usually encases you like strong arms, has fingers that caress you throughout your slumber. The shadowy digits dance along your arms and shoulders as his tender voice fills your mind with song. You didn’t know it was possible for him to feel any closer or more intense, but as he maps your entire outline by slowly tracing your every curve, there seems to be no space between you at all. 

It should terrify you more than any of the past instances have, but his presence is so mundane now that it almost feels natural for him to be touching you. 

After the intimate night with your faceless visitor, you don’t wake up having to catch your breath or clutch your chest as you often do. Instead, a content sigh leaves your lips as you take time stretching your limbs in bed.

“Who’s Jeongguk?” 

Your head whips towards the sound of your roommate’s voice.

“Huh?”

“It sounds like a name. You were saying it in your sleep,” Emily explains.

“I was?”

Talking in your sleep isn’t something you’ve ever been known to do. 

Emily nods to answer your question while getting out of bed to head to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

You’ve never heard that name before so you don’t understand why it would be slipping from your lips in the night, but aside from the obvious connection, your mind simply knows whose name it is as though it's written in your internal code.

Assuming he’ll follow the normal pattern, you predict a couple more weeks of him gently exploring your body before he’ll up the ante, but that’s not the case. When you fall asleep following a lazy Sunday spent studying and watching movies with Emily, he changes his approach again. As always, the dream starts with his sanguine, melodic voice. His magnetic presence follows soon after and just like the night prior, it’s no longer just a shadowy weight surrounding you, but the tender touch of darkness. 

Unlike last night, his fingertips don’t begin their excursion at your shoulders and collarbones. No, his featherlight touch lands on the supple skin of your inner thighs.

His prowess initially shocks you, but as the ghost-like caress continues along the sensitive area bordering your core, you slowly succumb to the pleasant feeling. 

He touches you just the same for a while, as though it’s the first time he’s feeling someone’s warm skin. His hands move along your thighs and hips at a snail’s pace, never going higher than your ribs other than when he ever-so-slightly skims the underside of your breasts. It’s only after one of his slow descents down your stomach and abdomen that he ends the hypnotic pattern by placing his hand on your pussy. 

Your breath hitches and even in your sleep you’re aware of the soft moan that escapes. He doesn’t move at first, allowing you to acquiesce to the weight of his hand on your most private and exposed area. Then, as your consciousness whirls with anticipation, he tentatively stretches his fingers until he’s able to part your folds and circle your hole.

To no one’s surprise, you’re already soaking wet with feminine essence that he swirls around your lips with his digits. 

It simultaneously feels heavenly and sinful, but most of all surreal because you don’t understand how this is happening or even if it is. This could still just be a mirage of your mind after all, but somewhere deep within, you don’t believe it is; it simply can’t be.

He ceaselessly plays with your pussy the entire night, but his fingertips never actually sink into your sex, causing you to wake up in the morning already yearning for more. You’ve never been touched by someone else and you didn’t expect it to feel so amazing. Even though his fingers were merely a presence and not physically there, it was the most sexually pleasurable experience of your life so far.

You don’t tell Emily about the new occurrence as you normally would. Truthfully, you’re too ashamed of how much you enjoyed it to utter the truth out loud. Here you are, a proud virgin waiting for the right partner, who then surrenders to the phantom touch of someone who only exists in dreamland. 

Emily notices the shift in your behavior regardless of you mentioning anything, but she gives you space to sort through your emotions and waits patiently for you to come to her rather than prying the information out of you. Therefore, she’s the one who picks up on you slowly descending into madness the longer this goes on.

Night after night he returns to you, always touching you in different, mesmerizing ways without ever penetrating you. Instead, he’ll massage your breasts all night by alternating between squeezing them and tweaking your nipples until they’re so hard they hurt in the morning or running his hands up and down your inner thighs while brushing your core every so often to tease you. It’s pure torture and yet you can’t get enough. You start going to sleep earlier, waking up later, and eventually, even begin napping midday just to feel him again. 

By the time he finally uses his long fingers to fuck you, it’s been close to two months since you initially heard his voice in your head and you’ve been going insane for at least half that time. 

It happens on a frigid winter night while you’re cocooned in a pile of blankets. Emily’s at home this weekend for a family gathering, so you’re all alone in your dorm room. You wonder if he knows and that’s why he decides to enhance your relationship, if you can even call what you have anything so formal. 

Perhaps you’re just genuinely crazy and your lack of sexual encounters finally broke your mental state enough to create a fictional partner who spends the night with you. There’s no strength left within you to care either way; you’re too addicted to him, real or not, to rationalize or stop the dreams.

He’s touching you leisurely tonight, steadily inching his fingers up your waist before cupping your breasts in his large hands and giving them a generous squeeze. You’re used to the sensation and gladly welcome it as quiet, content sighs leave your parted lips. But the sound morphs into a sharp intake of air when he tries something different and you have to clutch the sheets in response. 

All of the sudden, a warm mouth is touching your chest and the pure shock caused by his actions almost startles you awake. Your visitor kisses across the fatty flesh of your left breast before moving to the right as his hands descend to your hips. It feels immaculate and you desperately wish you could touch him in return while he pleasures you. 

His lips wrap around your pebbled nipple and tug on the sensitive skin, making you moan exuberantly in your sleep. You believe that’s all he’s going to do, but then his fingers sneak into your wet folds so he can move your juices around and lubricate your cunt. He must be satisfied with how soaked you already are, because he switches to rubbing tight circles over your clit. It feels so intense you believe you’re going to burst, but he relieves the pressure by moving away from your pearl and parting your lips with his fingers. 

He’s still sucking on your tits while exploring the pussy he’s no doubt memorized and the dual sensations are mind numbing, but nothing could prepare you for the way your ecstasy peaks when he sinks two fingers into your hole. 

You scream as your back arches off the bed and you swear you can hear satisfaction in his voice as he continues singing to you. 

He begins by fucking you slow and deep, obviously enjoying the tightness of your untouched cunt around his fingers. It takes time for you to adjust to the foreign feeling, so you appreciate his initially timid approach. His andante pace doesn’t last for long, though, and another wail rips from your throat when he scrapes your nipple with his teeth while forcing his digits farther up into your pussy. 

Tears never once stop rolling down your cheeks throughout the entire encounter, but they’re all from the pleasure and relief of finally feeling him touch you where you need him the most. You’ve been craving this for so long and it’s even better than you imagined, so much so that you secretly hope your alarm never goes off so he can keep fucking you and slobbering all over your chest. 

It only takes a few minutes for you to have your first orgasm caused by someone else and it’s the single most exquisite experience of your life. The euphoria is so extreme it leaves you sobbing into your pillow as your body shakes and convulses. Your cunt pulses around his phantom fingers throughout the high and the sensation must do something to him, too, because his song stops abruptly. 

“Good girl, Y/N.”

His speaking voice paralyzes your mind to the point you don’t realize his fingers and lips are retreating. Besides him serenading you, you’ve only heard him say your name before, but his timbre is just as beautiful without a melody accompanying it. 

“Jeongguk.”

You barely recognize your weak voice and using the unfamiliar name is purely instinctual.

“That is right, my little mortal.”

His reply is your final moment together before you gasp awake and find yourself drenched in a cold sweat. Throwing the blankets off your shaking limbs, you sit on the edge of your bed to catch your breath. When you glance down, you see a large wet spot on your pajama bottoms that’s without a doubt a consequence of the orgasm he gave you. 

The room feels like it’s spinning and you can’t get a single thought straight, but one word manages to stand out amongst the kaleidoscope.

Mortal.

Despite leaving Emily in the dark for the last month or so, you practically word vomit an update to her when she walks through the door later that day. 

“He’s not human?”

“Yes, and it’s the answer I’ve been looking for. He can do what he does because he’s not human!”

“And you know this because…”

You may have excluded some key details when explaining your recent discovery, like him touching you and making you come last night.

“Well, he called me ‘his little mortal’ last night,” you confess.

Emily blinks in shock a couple times.

“He what?” She shakes her head in pure disbelief. “I’m sorry, I thought he only sang to you. He’s speaking to you now?” You nod. “Girl, human or not, you need to talk to someone about this. I mean, he’s basically a stalker.”

“Em, who the fuck is going to believe that someone’s been singing and talking to me in my sleep?”

You purposely don’t mention that you enjoy his presence in your life, stalker or not.

“Fair. Do you at least have an idea of what type of non-human he is?” 

“Not a clue. Monster lore has gotten pretty mixed up over the years and dream walking can be traced back to pretty much any of them,” you explain.

Emily sighs and sits beside you on your bed.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, babe,” she tells you.

“You really believe me, just like that?”

“Of course I do,” she states. “I’ve seen what it’s done to you first hand. You’re antsy, talk in your sleep, constantly have your head in the clouds. You haven’t been yourself for a while now.”

Sighing in relief that you’re not alone, you rest your head on her shoulder while she reciprocates by wrapping an arm around you.  

Even with your massive break in the case, it doesn’t change anything, and your mystery monster continues to pleasure you with his hands every time you close your eyes. Which happens often because every touch just makes you more infatuated with him and within a couple weeks, you’re sleeping between every class and waking up as late as possible to spend as much time in his arms as possible. 

You’re aware how unhealthy the relationship is and yet something about it makes you feel fulfilled, rejuvenated, and whole. All you know is the sound of his voice and the weight of his presence, but he makes you feel things no other man ever has. 

As if you being asleep half the time isn’t enough for him, his ghostly embrace finds you wide awake in the library one night. To be fair, it’s finals season and you couldn’t spare any time for a nap between studying and running across campus for class. Perhaps he’s just as needy for you as you are for him and his only option is to greet you outside of your normal schedule. 

The book you’re reading falls right out of your hands and onto the floor when you first feel his fingers brushing your nape. You wonder if you fell asleep studying, but when you pinch your arm to check, the mild sting answers for you. Once you realize this is happening while you’re fully conscious and in public, you survey the area for any students or staff, but no one’s in sight. The library will be closing soon, so it makes sense you’re alone in the large building. 

His fingertips travel from your neck down the front of your torso as you relish in the sensation. Your head falls backwards, mouth drops open, and legs instinctively spread apart as if to make room for him, despite knowing he isn’t actually there. He descends like honey dripping from a spoon, but you embrace the feeling of him languidly tracing your curves before finally reaching your center. 

You're disappointed when his touch ceases entirely and a small whine leaves your throat in response, but he pacifies you quickly. Except when he returns to you, it isn’t the feeling of his hand on your core, but his lips. 

A shuddering moan breaches the air as his tongue repeatedly moves through your pussy from bottom to top. He licks you up and down like he’s afraid he’ll miss a spot and your nails reactively bite into the leather chair. You’ve never felt someone’s mouth on you and the sensation is otherworldly. Unlike him fingering you which you could compare to your own hand, feeling him kiss and lick your cunt is completely unrivaled by anything else. 

Releasing one arm of the chair to cover your mouth, you loudly moan and whimper as he continues eating you out. He works ravenously to drink up the essence pouring out of you and before you know it, you’re crying hot tears of pleasure.  

You want nothing more than to touch him in return or at least lace your fingers in his hair while his tongue plunges into your hole. Without anything else to hold onto, your free hand nearly rips the chair because of the intense pressure in your abdomen and thighs.  

It doesn’t take long for an orgasm to build in your gut because of his ministrations, but even when you come on his tongue with a sharp cry, he keeps lapping up your cum like water. He only stops his torment when you sob out the syllables of his name once the overstimulation becomes too much. 

His presence vanishes just as soon as he appeared and you're left panting and sweating in your cum soaked underwear just as the closing announcement for the library rings overhead. 

Frantically collecting your possessions, you practically run home with a half-zipped book bag and your headphones still around your neck. Upon reaching your dorm, you slam the door behind you and attempt to return your heartbeat to a normal cadence by remaining against the wood. 

You’re unsure what about tonight terrified you so much, but for whatever reason, you decide it’s time to fight back against your mystery monster. His incessant actions are changing you, etching away at your morals, and you refuse to lose your virginity to a mere ghost or something far worse. 

They say the best method of getting over someone is to get under someone else, so you ask Emily to go out with you tonight for the sole purpose of finding someone to fool around with. She’s rightfully hesitant and surprised by your sudden change of heart, but you assure her this is what you want and you leave campus together a couple hours later. 

The plan isn’t to sleep with someone, but you at least want to feel the touch of another person so you can forget the bond you’ve formed with your nightly visitor. 

It’s quite possibly the easiest mission ever to locate a relatively sober man to take you out back, and when you find someone you deem cute enough, you instruct him to follow you before taking his hand. 

You lead him into the alley beside the bar and immediately grab onto his jacket for a searing kiss up against the cold brick wall. He seamlessly matches your enthusiasm by holding you flush to his chest and slipping his tongue into your mouth. After making out for a minute or so, you feel his hand sneaking towards your belt and brace yourself, but before he can even undo your buckle, you realize you heavily underestimated how ready you are for this and push him off of you.

“Sorry, changed my mind,” you state while moving out of his embrace. 

A hand on the wall stops you from going any further and you glance back in confusion.

“I don’t think so, kitten,” he sneers.

Your face contorts in disgust at the pet name, but then you’re yelping as he tugs you back and cages you in with both arms. He cuts off any avenue of calling for help by kissing you again and your only choice is to try kicking him since he’s holding your arms up on either side of your head. But your attempts are unsuccessful once he uses his hips to pin you down and hold you still.

Fear courses through your veins like blood and you can feel tears pricking at your eyes. When he readjusts his grip so one of his hands is free while still securing you against the bricks, an unequivocal dread overtakes you.

Except nothing else happens. You see a flash of color behind his head and the next thing you know, his grasp is gone and he’s tumbling to the ground. For a poignant moment you just stare at his limp body beside your feet, but then reality creeps in and you lift your head.

“Humans should really stop touching what is not theirs.”

Before you is the man you saw a couple months ago and without any hesitation, you start screaming your head off.

The stranger’s eyes go wide for a split second before his expression shifts to one of annoyance, as if you being terrified of him killing someone is an inconvenience to him. His head tilts and he clicks his tongue before stepping forward to silence you by clasping his hand over your mouth. 

His actions certainly don’t help the terror in your belly, and you continue yelling even though  the sound is muffled.

“Shh,” he whispers. He’s merely centimeters away and you can feel his breath on your earlobe. “He is not dead, just unconscious.”

His voice is so recognizable you could pick him out of a blind line up and once you realize who’s standing in front of you, you cease your screaming and aggressively whine as a means of begging him to let go.

The pathetic sound must appease him because he chuckles while stepping back so you’re eye-to-eye.

“I know, I know. I am excited to finally be face to face as well.” His other hand rises to push some stray hair out of your eyes. “Are you going to be my good girl and stay quiet for me?” 

You nod while maintaining eye contact and he removes his hand in response. 

“You’re… him,” you pant.

“Him?”

It takes a second for the oxygen to return to your lungs so you can reply.

“Jeongguk. That’s your name, right?”

He smiles in obvious satisfaction and although it’s dark, you can see inhumanely sharp canines among the rest of his teeth. 

“Yes, my darling,” he answers you. 

The moment feels too surreal to comprehend and you’re unsure whether meeting him makes you happy or even more petrified. 

“Why me?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrow quirks up upon hearing your question, but he nods in understanding after a second and offers you his hand. 

“Come with me and I will explain everything.”

You wish it took you a while to discern the consequences and outcomes of leaving with him, but you take his hand almost instantaneously and follow him out of the alley without any further questions.

Jeongguk’s been alive for a long time, to the point he doesn’t necessarily remember the exact amount of years. He knows he’s the youngest of his coven since their leader is the one who turned him into a vampire, but as century after century goes by, his memories fade more and more. 

What he does recall is that being a human is boring and he heavily prefers being a vampire. The abilities, lifestyle, and overall allure of his position in the world brings him far more satisfaction than his previous human life. As a vampire, he can spend all of eternity drinking blood, having sex, and enjoying life stuck in his late twenties. It’s quite the advantage for him to look as he does; his handsome, youthful features providing everything he needs to quench his thirst to feed and fuck. The vampiric gifts bestowed on him to bring mortals into his clutches aren’t even necessary half the time.

Even so, he doesn’t shy away from using them, especially his singing voice that can lure anyone to him with a single line. 

Jeongguk can speak multiple languages after having plenty of centuries to learn some, but he still chooses to sing in his native tongue, albeit an older version of the language that’s since died off. Whenever he wishes to connect with a human, whether to drink their blood or use their body for his pleasure, all he has to do is sing an old Korean lullaby or ballad until they appear beside him. He could always coerce them to his side, a power shared by all vampires, but he prefers his company to join him of their own volition.

He’s never wanted a human for more than one night, unlike some of his brothers who have used their abilities to obtain a mate. 

It’s incomparable to human mates, who fall in love, get married, and have children. A vampire mate is more or less an easy way of getting food and/or laid whenever one pleases. There’s a ritual which can be done to make said human immortal, although not a vampire, allowing the vampire to feed off the human’s blood without killing them. Most vampires still hunt for their meals and reserve their mates for sexual purposes only rather than a food source, but plenty of his kind use them for both. 

Not everyone in his coven has a mate, but it’s seen as a goal for vampires to acquire one. Jeongguk doesn’t have any interest in it, perfectly content having his pick of the litter when it comes to mortals. Why settle for one when you can have as many as you like?

That all changes the moment he lays eyes on you. 

He never understood why his brothers and so many other vampires would take on a mate when there’s millions of humans to choose from, but when he sees you for the first time, he finally gets it. 

You’re sitting on a bench at the university Jeongguk often peruses to find his meals. The sun’s only just gone down, hence why Jeongguk can walk around freely, but even in the moonlight he can see how beautiful you are. At first, he figures he’ll just have a fun night by bringing you into his bed, but then the wind blows and he inhales your alluring scent for the first time. 

Jeongguk can smell your innocence from a mile away, the dark red, rich, virgin blood pumping through your veins nearly causing him to lose his mind. Adult virgins are a rare find nowadays, especially one as undeniably gorgeous as you. 

A mortal must be a virgin for the mating ritual to occur, making it harder for vampires to locate potential mates as human society becomes more sexually liberal as time goes on. 

Alas, here you are, the most perfect little mortal he’s ever seen. 

You’re merely reading with your legs crossed and your hair up in a bun, but having your jugular on full display for Jeongguk to see while you’re clueless to his nearby presence has his mouth watering. 

It’s worrisome just how badly he wants you, both your blood and body, but he knows he has to wait. If he’s going to make you his mate, you have to want him just as much. He won't be able to utilize his normal tricks to attract you to him, he has to seduce you. 

He skips dinner altogether to hurry home and ask his coven for advice. When he enters the massive, abandoned mansion they’ve been living in for the past few decades, he bounds down the steps a couple at a time until he finds his brothers in the large living room.

“Hyungs,” he calls out to them. 

Six heads turn towards the sound of his voice and a couple of them gesture for him to join them. 

“Why do you look so clean? Were you not going out to feed?” Seokjin, the oldest of his coven, asks.

Jeongguk waves his question off as he comes to stand in front of them on the couch.

“I found a virgin,” he states. 

All of their eyes widen in both surprise and delight.

“An adult virgin?” Jimin asks.

“Yes.”

“In this day and age?” Yoongi comments.

“And?” Hoseok probes him further.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll into his skull as he imagines you all alone on that bench. 

“She is the most stunning mortal I have come across in centuries,” Jeongguk explains. 

“You finally settling down, then?” Namjoon asks with an eager grin.

“I do not believe I have a choice,” he admits with a smile of his own. “Will you help me?”

Despite not being the eldest, Namjoon is considered their leader and since he’s the one who turned Jeongguk, they have an especially close bond. 

“Help you how?” Taehyung questions. “All you have to do is fill her womb with your seed.”

Jeongguk grimaces at the comment even though that’s precisely what he wishes to do to you. 

“She has to ask me for it,” he replies. 

Taehyung’s eyebrows rise at his response since Jeongguk’s usually the most sexually pervasive of them all, but he understands the sentiment.

“It’s simple. You use your gift,” Yoongi answers. 

All vampires have a specific power besides their normal abilities which they can use to attract humans to them. Jeongguk’s is obviously his siren voice, while his brothers have various other ones. 

“I am aware, but I’ve only used it for single encounters and I will not be able to convince her after just one meeting.”

“You could dream walk,” Namjoon suggests. “It would give you enough time to slowly lure her in.”

“It will be hard, though. You will have to resist going too fast or you’ll risk scaring her,” Seokjin states. “Mortals are able to seal their subconscious minds from us if they so wish. Then you will be left with no choice but to use coercion."

Jeongguk scratches his nape and nods his head as he processes their advice. It seems like his best option, but he’s never done it before, so he’ll need to practice before attempting it on you. 

“Go get something to eat,” Jimin instructs while patting him on the shoulder on his way out. 

His brothers concur with the final suggestion and Jeongguk can’t help but agree given that vampire powers work best following a meal. 

So, he ventures out again to the same campus where he found you. It’s the weekend meaning he has plenty of young blood to choose from as students mosey about from party to party. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the taste of blood tainted with alcohol, but they’re the easiest population to subdue and coerce into forgetting the encounter. 

Before finding his prey for the evening, he returns to the bench to pick up your scent and hopefully find where you live. It’s easy enough when yours sticks out so much amongst the rest, taking him no time at all to locate your dorm room. 

The light is still on, so even though you’re on the third floor, he can see you sitting in bed watching something on your laptop. Luckily, you have artwork on your wall spelling out your name or else he doesn’t know how he would learn it. He whispers the moniker under his breath a couple times, practicing how to roll the syllables off his tongue. 

Even though your hair is down and it unfortunately conceals part of your face, Jeongguk is just as enamored with you as he was a few hours ago. You look so gentle, warm, and soft and he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your neck while his cock is buried deep in your pussy.

No one’s ever had you like that, which means you’ll be entirely, solely his and in that moment he swears to do anything and everything to ensure that happens. 

Jeongguk reluctantly leaves after watching you for a while longer and continues on his mission to feed from a couple drunk college kids. 

Upon returning home, he swaps his bloody clothes for clean ones before immediately heading to the expansive library they’ve built up over many years, courtesy of none other than Namjoon. He spends the night studying both ancient and new vampire texts that explain dream walking in graphic detail so he’s fully prepared to accomplish it with you. 

The following night he returns to practice on some unsuspecting students. He isn’t able to see their initial reactions in the morning, but once the sun goes down, he studies the humans and thankfully, all of them tell their friends about hearing a mysterious singer in their heads the night prior, so Jeongguk considers it a success.

He waits one more night so he can feed again beforehand and as soon as the moon rises, he finds himself outside your window. Dream walking is possible from afar, but at least for now, he wants to be nearby. Besides, he can’t help but crave seeing you whenever he’s able.

You take a while to fall asleep, but Jeongguk is patient and passes the time by admiring you as you complete your nighttime routine and change into comfier clothes before slipping beneath the covers. Once your eyes close, he focuses on propelling his voice into your mind as he did with the other students. He doesn’t have to actually sing to serenade you in your dreams, but he’s still technically singing in his head, so his emotions and inflections will reach you regardless. 

There’s no obvious reaction on your face to show him his powers are working and it’s not as though he can stay until the morning to see you wake up. He believes he was successful, though, because when he comes back the next night, you’re dramatically explaining the occurrence to your roommate. 

All your mannerisms, including your pretty voice and animated expressions, utterly captivate Jeongguk as he watches from outside and for the first time, he doesn’t mind the idea of spending eternity with a single soul. 

He serenades you night after night for a couple weeks so he can gain confidence in his abilities before advancing to something more difficult. It’s important he has a good handle on the technique and he also wants to avoid moving too fast for your sake. Although, that plan doesn’t last long when he follows you out to the bars one night. 

You and your friend, who he learns is Emily, are walking hand-in-hand towards downtown while Jeongguk trails behind a fair distance away since he can still see and hear you easily. He’s honestly surprised you’re going out at all, since you’re obviously not the type to have casual sex, but he definitely doesn’t mind seeing you in a skin tight outfit. 

Despite remaining outside while you enjoy your night, he still smells you from across the street. Meaning he can tell when you end up standing too close to another human inside the bar. 

It’s evident that alcohol is gradually mixing with your blood, but the scent isn’t potent enough for you to be drunk. He despises the idea of you willingly interacting with someone else, but he’s also aware that he’s helpless to stop you. So there you are, borderline sober and dancing with a human man while Jeongguk’s blood boils underneath his skin. 

Even though you don’t know it yet, you're his, and these mortals better keep their hands off you before Jeongguk loses his goddamn mind. 

In an act of desperation to separate you two, he decides to try speaking to you while you’re conscious. He knows it’s doable when in close proximity to someone, but still much harder than dream walking. Usually the person has to be inebriated, fatigued, or easily susceptible to persuasion and you barely fall into one of those categories. 

Regardless of the possible hurdles, Jeongguk completely focuses on you using his mind to communicate with you. He figures keeping it simple will best accomplish his goal, so he merely utters your name in his head. 

The sound must reach you, because your scent spikes with anxiety and confusion. He repeats your name, singing it this time so you know it’s him calling out to you and the plan works flawlessly. Within a single moment he smells you hurrying away from the man off to a secluded area far from anyone else’s scent. 

He feels slightly guilty upon hearing your heart beating erratically because of him, but the knowledge that it’s only a matter of time until you’ll be happily welcoming the sound of his voice soothes him. 

You leave soon after with your friend trailing close behind and Jeongguk waits while you walk far enough ahead of him before following you home. Once he sees you arrive safely back at your dorm room, he admires you from the shadows as you remove your makeup and let your hair down, every mundane movement of yours holding his full attention. 

When you fall asleep, Jeongguk plans on continuing his previous endeavor of singing to you, but then he remembers the sick feeling in his gut when he knew you were in someone else’s arms. His jealousy and anger boils over until he has no choice but to change tactics. For the second time tonight, he attempts something new by sending not only his voice to you, but his presence. Vampires are able to use everything but their physical being to communicate with humans from afar, so he imagines his arms wrapping around you. 

He watches as you shiver in your sleep and goosebumps appear on your arms, telling him everything he needs to know about the success of his abilities. 

Satisfaction swirls inside of him as he holds you in his arms for the first time, albeit only subconsciously. He can’t sense any distress from you either, meaning everything is going according to plan.

Once he’s certain the connection will hold no matter the distance, he heads home to convey his accomplishment to his brothers. 

Jeongguk doesn’t watch you sleep anymore since it’s easier to concentrate while relaxing in his own bed, but he still stands outside your window while you get ready or stay up late studying. 

That’s how he knows you’re going out again a couple weeks later. 

The usually quiet dorm room is suddenly full of laughter and music as you, your roommate, and two unrecognizable women prepare to head out later in the evening. 

You look undeniably exquisite as you sit in front of a mirror applying your makeup and curling your hair. The sight nearly makes Jeongguk forgo his entire plan and take you right there, but he knows patience is the key to winning you over. 

Just as he did before, he follows you and your friends along the winding streets leading to downtown. You seem nervous in comparison to last time and he wonders if it’s because of him and his previous actions. Even if that is the case, he has to push through until you’re comfortable and needy for him or he’ll never succeed in taking you as his mate. 

He can tell you’re anxious immediately upon your arrival, but you self-soothe by drinking as soon as you step inside. Jeongguk grimaces at the smell of alcohol tainting your delicious blood and the night only goes further south when you remain close to multiple different men throughout the night. 

The scent of their dirty blood standing near yours makes him want to be sick. His only solace is that you never spend much time with them, jumping from person to person every thirty minutes or so. Jeongguk is beyond curious why you’re behaving in such a manner, but he vehemently hopes it’s because he’s in the back of your mind. 

He believes his theory might actually be correct when your scent spikes with adrenaline and your heartbeat grows closer. His whole body goes taught in fear of ruining things by seeing you face to face, but before he can hide, you’re pushing the glass door open and resting against the brick wall outside. 

All of his senses dial to ten as he stares at you shivering in the cold. There’s a split second where he thinks he can make a run for it, but then you gradually lift your head in his direction. When your eyes land on him, they widen dramatically and your breath hitches. He knows it’s impossible for you to recognize him, but there’s a glimmer in your eyes telling him you have a hunch as to who he is. The idea makes him smirk as he appreciates you shamelessly ogling him, but he doesn’t remain there to enjoy your expression for much longer.

Disappointment is evident in your scent as Jeongguk walks away down the sidewalk and it fills him with pride. Seeing you up close and more importantly, your reaction to seeing him, is the exact amount of fuel he needs to keep your relationship moving forward. Truthfully, he simply can’t wait any longer to finally touch you. 

Once you fall into a deep sleep that night, he imagines his hands caressing you, taking his sweet time feeling you for the first time by tracing your outline over and over again throughout your slumber. 

His more intimate presence comes with the consequence of you being able to learn more about him in return. It’s a natural evolution of your bond growing stronger and the more intense your nightly routine becomes, the more of a two-way street the dream walk will be. Jeongguk isn’t sure how much your subconscious mind will absorb, but he hopes you’re able to sense something about him other than his phantom embrace.

It kills him that you’re both alone in your respective beds rather than tangled up in his sheets together, but despite the sensations not being as fervent as they will be in person, he’s pacified by the feeling of your soft, supple skin beneath his fingertips.

Jeongguk wishes the simple touch satiated him, but when you wake up in the morning and the connection severs, he realizes it isn't nearly enough. He just wants more, more, and more of you and although he originally planned to continue with his steady timeline, he can’t help himself from escalating things again the following night. 

It'll be more difficult to accomplish, so as soon as night falls, he finds himself a couple humans to feed from before returning home to his bed. When he senses that you're asleep through your mental connection, he closes his eyes while picturing himself touching you.  

His fingers meet your warm thighs and his mind goes completely haywire. Even through the dream walk you feel like absolute heaven to touch and it takes all of his willpower not to rush things. Knowing the wait will be worth it, he spends an ample amount of time moving his hands up and down your waist, hips, and thighs. 

Once he grows too impatient, he finally rests his hand over your core after descending from your abdomen. He desperately wishes to see your reaction or smell your scent changing because of the arousal, but for now he’ll just keep imagining it. After waiting a moment for you to relax, he uses his fingers to part your folds so he can feel your pussy for the first time.

The sheer wetness and warmth of your cunt has his eyes rolling back as he bites his lip to refrain from moaning aloud. All he’s doing is moving his digits up and down your slit and yet his cock is straining against his pants. You feel unbelievable and exactly as he always knew you would, even without pushing his fingers inside of you. 

He continue to play with you by spreading your essence around all night. He wants to do more; so much more, but he knows now is the most crucial time to move at a snails pace, so you acclimate to his touch to the point it’s the only thing you want and need. 

When the morning comes, the first thing he does is pull his hard dick out of his pants to relieve the pressure that’s been building all night. Once he’s more confident in his abilities, he’ll be able to masturbate as he feels you up, but until then he’ll have to do so afterwards. In all honesty, his dream is to watch you jerk him off; to see your small hand wrapped around his cock as you pump him as fast as your humanity allows.

Jeongguk hasn’t masturbated in a long time, since he could easily find someone to fuck prior to meeting you, but now you occupy every single thought in his head and he can’t comprehend wanting to be with someone else when he has you. 

Short, staccato grunts leave his mouth as he eagerly moves his hand up and down his cock, using the precum pooling on his tip to lubricate himself. He moans with his head buried in the pillows as an orgasm builds in his abdomen and before he can even fully enjoy the friction of his hand around his dick, he’s coming all over himself with a whine that sounds like your name. 

It isn’t the last time he jacks off while waiting for you to return to him and as he continues to tease you by fondling your erogenous zones every night, you start sleeping even more. 

You go to bed earlier, wake up later, and Jeongguk notices you begin napping the longer your ghostly affair goes on. It fills him with pride and satisfaction that he has you right where he wants you. It’s obvious you’re becoming just addicted to him as he is to you and he knows it’s only a matter of time before you can be together. 

After about a month of touching you everywhere but within the walls of your cunt, Jeongguk decides it’s time to take your relationship to the next level. 

He makes himself comfortable outside your window to watch, something he hasn’t done in quite some time, because there’s nothing he wants more than to see your reaction when he sinks his fingers deep inside you. 

To his surprise and delight, he finds you alone in your room, meaning you’ll have no reason to hold back for the sake of waking someone else up. 

Jeongguk’s eyes remain on your pretty face as he begins his nightly ritual. He’s sitting just below your window, in a hidden area that still gives him the perfect line of sight into your bedroom. It’s wintertime, so no one should be outside to catch him, but he still doesn’t want to risk being visible.

He waits until you’re fast asleep before shifting his shadowy presence from that of his hands to his mouth by kissing across one of your breasts. From his position outside he can see and hear your breath catch in your throat and it encourages him to continue relentlessly. He kisses and licks your chest, eventually latching onto one of your nipples and sucking on the sensitive skin. While his mouth is busy, one of his ghost-like hands descends to your core so he can play with your pussy to his heart's content. 

He doesn’t tease you for long because he’s honestly dying to feel you, so upon deeming you wet enough, he pushes two of his fingers into your cunt to penetrate you for the first time. 

Your tight, virgin hole sucks his digits into its warmth without him having to do any work, creating a feeling far better than his imagination could ever produce. The soaking wet, pulsing pussy wrapped around him drives him absolutely insane. Accompanied by the vision of you crying out and arching off the bed when he starts fucking you with his fingers, he feels so unbelievably satisfied the emotion seeps into his nightly song. 

His eyes observe your every expression as he pleasures you in your dream and before long he joins in by palming himself. He’s rock hard and throbbing beneath the fabric of his jeans and if he wasn’t outside, he’d pull his cock out to get himself off alongside you. 

It doesn’t take long for your climax to ramp up. Jeongguk can tell from both your body language and the way your pussy grips his fingers like a vice. He speeds up the pace of his own hand over his bulge so he can come with you and soon enough you both feel an unbelievably intense release from your individual orgasms. 

Jeongguk uses his free hand to cover his mouth as he grunts, his hot cum soaking his underwear and revealing a wet patch on his denim. Meanwhile, your whole body is shaking as pleasurable tears roll down your cheeks and Jeongguk is beyond delighted at the sight of you writhing in ecstasy because of him.

Without thinking, he speaks both aloud and to your subconscious. 

“Good girl, Y/N.”

He notices your eyebrows furrowing, but then you surpise him in return by replying.

“Jeongguk.”

His jaw goes slack at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. He wasn’t even aware you knew his name, but the bond you share must’ve provided you with that information at some point. 

You knowing who he is fills him with such pride and accomplishment that he happily responds to your call.

“That is right, my little mortal.”

Jeongguk continues making you come night after night for a couple more weeks and you seem to want it just as badly as him, seeing as you go to sleep almost every two hours like clockwork. 

He certainly doesn’t mind fucking you with his hand or pleasuring your tits multiple times a day, especially because that’s his ideal cadence for when you become his mate. The issue is he grows comfortable with the routine, and when you break it one day by staying awake, he gets irrationally antsy. 

After tracking your scent from your dorm room, he finds you in the library about thirty minutes before closing. You look to be studying, but Jeongguk can see your droopy eyes and slumped shoulders caused by exhaustion. 

Since he’s been without you all day, he decides to use his proximity and your fatigue to his advantage by sending his presence to you while you’re awake.

The very second his hands graze your neck, you sigh in relief while your head lulls back, and as he continue down your torso, you spread your legs apart as though he’s actually there. Your innate reaction makes him chuckle. His claws are in you so deep and your obvious want for me makes him up the ante of your relationship yet again.

Rather than using his hands to pleasure you, he imagines himself licking a long stripe up your entire cunt before circling his tongue over your hole. He relentlessly eats you out, kissing and sucking on your wet pussy like a man starved. It’s not the same as it will be once he truly gets his hands on you, but that’ll be soon enough. 

You taste fucking delicious and if it weren’t for you coming on his tongue in practically no time at all, he would go on for hours. 

He doesn’t stop even as he’s swallowing your cum and you’re covering your mouth to suppress your loud, whimpering moans, but then he hears you crying his name and he removes his presence from your mind to grant you relief. 

His eyes lock onto you afterwards, eager to see your reaction to his ministrations. Except when he peers into the window of the library again, you don’t look remotely happy and he can hear your blood pumping erratically in your veins. He watches you gather your things and rush out of the building towards your dorm and once you’re there, you press yourself against the door with your eyes shut while slowly inhaling and exhaling. 

Did he scare you? It’s been months of him meeting you in your sleep and you’ve never once reacted like this. 

It could be because you were awake or maybe using his mouth on you was too much. He vehemently hopes that isn’t the case and proceeds to follow you for the remainder of the night to ensure he didn’t ruin his carefully laid plans.

Unfortunately for him, your out of character behavior continues. 

You seem to ask your friend to go out again and Jeongguk is forced to watch as you doll yourself up and head out with her to a bar or club where you’ll no doubt be interacting with human men. He follows you as always until you enter the establishment and he’s left outside to sense your movements rather than see them. 

Although, you appear before him again far sooner than he expects by leaving hand-in-hand with some random man. 

Jeongguk’s anxiety sky rockets as he observes you leading the man into an alley where you pull him in for a kiss. His nerves morph into pure, unadulterated anger, his hands practically shaking with fury as he stares at the scene before him of you making out with someone else. 

Here he ate you out, most likely giving you one of your best orgasms to date, and you have the audacity to kiss some human a few hours later? 

His emotions are about to get the better of him when he sees you push the man away and side step out of his embrace, instantly relieving his agony. The satisfaction is short-lived, though, because a moment later you’re being yanked back and pinned against the wall. The man kisses you again, obviously against your will, as you struggle helplessly to get him off you. 

Jeongguk automatically sees red and within a split second he’s using his vampire speed to reach you so he can hit the man’s pressure point and knock him out cold. 

He watches in disgust as the grimy creature falls to the ground with a pathetic thump.

“Humans should really stop touching what is not theirs,” he sneers.

When he glances towards you to check that you’re alright, you shock him by screaming bloody murder as soon as your eyes meet. 

Your adverse reaction instantly frustrates him, as if he didn’t just save you from this punk. Regardless of his own feelings, he knows you’re only human and that adrenaline is likely running the show in lieu of logic, so he simply clicks his tongue before muffling your noises with his hand. 

When you still attempt to scream even with him covering over your mouth, he steps forward to whisper in your ear.

“Shh. He is not dead, just unconscious.”

Jeongguk feels your entire body tense with realization and soon enough your cry for help turns into a pleading whimper, making him chuckle pridefully because of your quick recognition of his voice.

“I know, I know.” He steps back to see your pretty face. “I am excited to finally be face to face as well.” His voice seems to calm you and Jeongguk reactively brushes some hair out of your eyes. “Are you going to be my good girl and stay quiet for me?” 

When you nod your head in response to his question, he drops his hand and gives you space to catch your breath.

“You’re… him.”

It’s the first time he’s hearing your voice up close and it has every neuron in his brain firing off.

“Him?”

“Jeongguk. That’s your name, right?”

He could hear you say his name over and over for hours and not grow tired of it.

“Yes, my darling.”

He’s wearing a saccharine smile because he simply can’t contain his happiness any longer. You’re finally right here in front of him where you truly belong. 

“Why me?” 

Your question gives Jeongguk pause and his eyebrow quirks up in response. It makes sense given the situation, but for him the answer is so obvious he doesn’t know how to properly verbalize it.

Instead of answering, he extends his hand towards you.

“Come with me and I will explain everything.”

Not an ounce of hesitation passes through you before you take his hand and Jeongguk internally celebrates as he leads you away from the alley.

The two of you walk hand-in-hand down winding back roads which run parallel to a large forest. Jeongguk doesn’t speak, but you can tell he’s perfectly content just holding your hand. You admire his handsome profile as you stroll and the feeling of being beside him after so long is both astonishingly surreal and totally natural. It should terrify you; he should terrify you, but you don’t feel anything close to fear.

“What are you?” You ask after a long time of comfortable silence.

Jeongguk smirks at your question before meeting your gaze.

“Would you like to guess?”

His antics make you chuckle. Here he is, some type of creature of the night, playing a guessing game with you. You play along regardless of the absurdity of the situation by tapping your chin with your free hand.

When you glance at him again, you allow your eyes to trace his features before answering him assuredly.

“Vampire.”

He smiles and it’s confirmation enough when you see his sharp fangs peaking out. 

“Am I so obvious?”

“No,” you reply. “Just a hunch.”

Jeongguk stops abruptly and you follow suit, waiting patiently by his side for him to speak again.

“Are you scared, darling?”

“No.”

Your instantaneous response makes him smile again.

“Why not?”

It’s hard to explain given that you don’t truly understand your own emotions about the matter. 

“I’m not sure to be honest. At this point, you’re just so familiar to me that I feel comfortable with you.” You sigh. “I am afraid of what you might do to me, though.”

Jeongguk’s brow creases as he invades your personal space by stepping closer.

“Do you think I would hurt you, precious?”

His reply makes your eyes roll.

“Well, you are a vampire. You know, the monsters who drink blood. Something I conveniently have plenty of,” you explain sarcastically. 

He laughs while shaking his head back and forth.

“Oh, my little mortal, you truly believe I would spend months familiarizing you with my presence if I was just going to kill you upon meeting one another?” 

You suppose he makes a great point since all his efforts would go to waste if he drank you dry right now. 

“What do you want with me then?”

Jeongguk begins walking again, tugging you along by the hand so you can reach your destination and he can properly explain the answer to your inquiry. 

When you reach a large mansion hidden amongst the tall trees of the forest, you know you’ve arrived without him saying as much. 

Jeongguk leads you up the stone steps before opening the door and chivalrously offering you entry before himself. The home is beyond grand, with beautiful, ornate artwork and decor around every corner. It’s suited for someone as old as Jeongguk presumably is, but you wonder if it’s solely his.

“Do you live here alone?” You ask.

“No, I have a coven.”

He reclaims your hand to guide you down a long corridor left of the entrance.

“How many of you are there?” 

Although you’re asking him question after question, your eyes are busy surveying every inch of the magnificent house.

“I have six older brothers, but there are people who stay here, too,” he explains.

“What… what do you mean?” 

The idea of other humans being here sends shivers down your spine because you aren’t certain whether or not it’s by choice.

Jeongguk smiles while glancing back at you.

“You really are eager to know more, huh?”

Right on cue, he halts you in front of a wooden door. He doesn’t give you a chance to ask any questions before twisting the doorknob, revealing four women lounging on plush sofas and chairs. 

“Hi, Jeongguk!” They cheer in unison.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greets them in return. “This is Y/N, the woman I have been telling you about.”

“Oh my gosh! Hello!” A beautiful blonde woman crosses the room to pull you into a hug. “It is so wonderful to finally meet you.”

You have no clue what the hell is going on, but you return her embrace out of politeness. She releases you to rejoin the others in the center of the room and the three remaining women wave.

“We have heard so much about you, Y/N,” a gorgeous brunette states.

The final two women nod in agreement while smiling graciously at you.

“These are my brother’s mates,” Jeongguk explains.

“Mates?”

Jeongguk nods before continuing.

“Vampires are very social creatures, so not only do we have covens, but many of us take on a human mate to be our lifelong companion.”

The scattered puzzle pieces of information begin clicking into place upon hearing his explanation and your blood runs cold when you realize what all of this means.

Jeongguk must notice you growing uncomfortable because he quickly waves goodbye before shutting the door and turning his attention back to you.

“C’mere, my darling,” he coos while taking your hand. “We can talk in my bedroom.”

Although your nerves are on the fritz and you aren’t sure if you want to hear more, you follow him in the opposite direction until you reach an open door framing a large, grandiose bedroom. 

His room looks a lot like him; mysterious and dark, but full of old artifacts and deep, rich colors. Jeongguk allows you to enter first by gesturing for you to sit on his king bed and joins you once his bedroom door is closed behind him. 

“You… you want me to be like them, is that it?”

Jeongguk’s eyes trace over your features before he responds.

“That is correct.”

You sharply inhale and stand to pace back and forth at the foot of his bed. 

“What would that entail? I mean, how can I be your lifelong companion if you live forever?” 

“There is a ritual that turns you immortal. Not a vampire, but you will be unable to die,” he calmly replies.

His answer only confuses you more.

“What’s the point? Wouldn’t you rather spend eternity with a vampire?” 

“I cannot drink the blood of a fellow vampire.”

A beat of heavy silence passes, and then all of your bodily systems go on red alert and you run straight for the door without another thought, which is silly because Jeongguk is a vampire and moves at quadruple your speed. 

“Y/N. Y/N, hold on.” 

He reaches you before your hand can even graze the doorknob, snagging your waist and turning you around to face him.

“Let go of me!”

“I would never hurt you, YN, I swear,” he assures you.

“Please, I just want to go home,” you beg. Head falling to his shoulder, you grip his shirt in your hands in an act of pure desperation. “Please, Jeongguk.”

His fingers soothing comb through your hair and despite your best interest, the repetitive motion calms your racing heartbeat.

“I will answer any questions you have, precious. Please do not go.”

While lifting your head to meet his reverent gaze, you take a deep breath in preparation for your next question. 

“Do you love me?”

Jeongguk’s expression momentarily shifts into shock, but he quickly recovers.

“Love is a human emotion. It is not the proper way to describe my feelings for you,” he answers. “They say love is patient and kind, but I am neither of those things. The only reason I waited so long to introduce myself is because I did not want to scare you. Everything I do or have done is for my own selfish motivations.” He sighs and reaches out to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. “But I want you more than I have ever wanted something in my long life and I need you so bad I feel it in a heart that no longer beats. You consume my every thought and are the reason behind my every action, so if that is what you consider love, then I suppose I do.”

His words take your breath away and suddenly every once of fear in your body dissipates. 

“You still haven’t told me why I’m the one you want.”

“The ritual only works if the human is a virgin,” Jeongguk answers. 

Something about his response shatters your heart, because this isn’t about you, it’s about you being untouched, pure. Whether or not he loves you doesn’t matter when you’re merely a pawn to him.

You scoff while shaking your head, shoving his hand off of you and turning back to the door.

“I want to go home, Jeongguk.”

A loud sigh comes from behind you and the next thing you know, his strong arms are wrapping around your middle. 

“You misunderstand, my pretty mortal. It is true you have to be a virgin to become my mate, but that is not why I chose you.” He presses a kiss to your nape and you involuntarily close your eyes in content. “I never intended on taking a mate until I saw you and became completely bewitched by your beauty, and later your mannerisms and personality. If you were not a virgin, I would merely turn you into a vampire to make you my companion.”

You wish you had the strength to pull away from him and leave, but everything about him is so addicting that you can’t bring yourself to move.

“What if I don’t want to be immortal?” 

Jeongguk hums in thought while slowly kissing across your neck and shoulder.

“Do you not want to be with me?”

It’s a far too weighted question, but you attempt to answer truthfully anyway.

“I… I do, but it isn’t the same. We wouldn’t be able to grow old together or get married and have children,” you explain your point of view. 

“That is true. I cannot offer you the same life a human male can, but no human can offer you what I can; pleasure you how I can,” he whispers in your ear. 

His statement sends shivers down your spine and causes goosebumps to appear all over you. You have no comparison since you only know his touch, but you can’t imagine someone else ever making you feel how he does.

“I’ve waited my whole life to give my body to someone and always hoped it would only be one person,” you admit. 

“It still can be,” he argues while brushing your hair away from your neck. His lips produce a dark, purple hickey on your skin and your head tips back in euphoria when he scrapes his fangs over the mark. “All you have to do is say the word and you will be all mine. Forever.”

His offer is all too enticing, and you have to rapidly shake your head to dispel your wild thoughts before turning to face him again.

“Why do you need my permission? You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

One side of Jeongguk’s mouth curls up in a smirk. 

“It is true I can make you do whatever I wish with the power of coercion, but I do not want to acquire a mate like that. You have to want it, want me, for yourself.”

“Have you ever used your powers on me?” 

Jeongguk fervently shakes his head.

“Never.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

He chuckles in disbelief. 

“You would know, darling.” You gesture with a wave of your hand for him to further explain. “When a vampire coerces you to do something, you feel it.”

“Show me,” you demand.

Jeongguk pauses as his eyebrows rise, but after a decisive moment he clicks his tongue and sets his sights on you, his brown eyes suddenly piercing and far darker than normal.

“Come.”

A crushing, unbearably heavy thought weighs down on your mind and without thinking or even flinching, your feet carry you to his side. He catches your waist once you’re close enough, but you can only feel his arm around you, not see it, because your brain and other four senses are too overloaded with his voice and intense aura.

When the sensation disappears after a second, you dramatically inhale to collect the air around you. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp.

“See?” Jeongguk asks in a smug voice. “All I did was visit you in your dreams. Nothing more.”

“You ate me out while I was awake,” you correct him.

He smiles while tugging you closer until you’re nose to nose.

“Mm, yes. I just could not resist you a moment longer, my sweet little mortal.” One of his hands possessively cradles your jaw. “Perhaps I can convince you by showing you precisely what your future with me will look like.”

Your lips are only millimeters apart, your breath tangling together in the limited space between you and you want nothing more than to kiss him, but your conscience is still clouded with indecision.

Forcing yourself out of his embrace, you back away to keep a fair distance between you.

“Don’t you kill people?”

Jeongguk scoffs.

“Of course not.”

“Of course not? You’re a vampire, Jeongguk.”

“Darling, blood is a naturally replenishing resource. Why in the world would we kill people and have less of our only food source?”

All the vampire lore you’ve heard, read, or seen feels like a total betrayal when you hear his explanation, which arguably makes perfect sense.

“So then you just take a little bit of blood when you eat?”

Jeongguk sighs before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. 

“It is roughly the same amount as if you were donating blood. Vampires have expert hearing so we know if we are taking too much based on the sound of it in your veins and the beat of your heart. On average, we feed from about two to three humans every couple days to remain fully satisfied,” he tells you.

“But if I were immortal, you could just drink from me without killing me,” you comment.

“Precisely, but many vampires do not exclusively feed from their mate and still hunt on occasion.”

“Why?” 

“Well, you could compare it to eating the same meal for all eternity. Just as you would not want to eat chicken every night, we still enjoy some variety in our diet,” he replies.

You return to his side by sitting on the bed again.

“So not all blood tastes the same?” Jeongguk shakes his head. “What about mine?”

A mischievous smile spreads across his face. 

“I have not tasted yours yet, precious.”

The conversation topic sets your nerves alight as you fiddle with your hands in your lap. This still feels unlike any reality you know of, but Jeongguk, and more important your feelings for him, are more real than anything else.

“Do you want to?”

“I do. You smell absolutely divine, my little mortal.” He reaches out to move your hair away and expose your jugular. His fingers trace along the large vein and even you can feel it pulsing with adrenaline. “I want nothing more than to sink my fangs into your soft, warm skin and drink the perfect blood coursing through your veins.”

Someone talking about consuming you shouldn’t have a positive effect and yet you find yourself rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sexual ache his words cause. 

“Does it hurt?”

Jeongguk leans over to kiss the exact spot his fingers were.

“At first, but it feels good after the initial bite,” he answers honestly, all while continuing to kiss your throat.

You slowly inhale while collecting your racing thoughts. Every inch of your mind is saying something different, some in agreement and some not, but you don’t heed any of the warnings and turn your head to see Jeongguk’s lustful, hungry eyes staring back at you.

It’s been months of a one-sided, ghostly affair, and your need for his physical touch after all this time is so great you can hardly stand it. 

“What was that about convincing me?”

Jeongguk doesn’t even wait a split second before grabbing your face and pulling you in for a damning kiss. 

Par for the course of a vampire, he absolutely devours your mouth while you clutch his shirt between your fingers like a lifeline. His fingertips dig into your cheeks as his lips move in amorous, lewd circles to coax yours apart. Once he’s successful, he shoves his tongue inside and swirls it around so he can taste you. It’s not romantic or sweet as a first kiss probably should be, but you can’t seem to get enough as you press your face as close to his as possible and desperately chase after his lips. 

Besides the sound of your wet mouths repeatedly meeting, all you hear are tandem moans and grunts as you kiss the air right out of each other’s lungs. 

“Please, I have to have you,” Jeongguk begs between kisses.

You automatically grasp his face in both hands and move to straddle his lap, which he assists you with by wrapping an arm around your waist. He falls backwards onto the bed, bringing you with him without ever ceasing the feverish lip lock. On instinct you start grinding in his lap and Jeongguk reacts with a growl as he uses one hand to guide your hips. 

It quickly becomes difficult to catch your breath while you hump the evident tent in his pants and continue kissing him senseless. 

“Show me, Jeongguk. Show me everything,” you whimper. 

Your words seem to light a fire inside of him and he releases your face so both of his hands can push and pull your cunt over his jeans. He stops maiming your lips and travels across your visage one kiss at a time until he reaches your neck, painting your throat with bruises and saliva while you pant in ecstasy. 

“I will only bite you if you want me to, darling. Just say the word.”

Perhaps it’s unfair of him to suggest such a divisive act while your mind is hazy with lust, but deep down you know it’s his absolutely unbridled control over you that causes you to answer without any hesitation.

“Do it.”

Armed with your consent, Jeongguk wastes no time at all before flipping you both over and tugging your hair aside so he can savagely bite into your neck. 

When his fangs pierce your skin, you scream as an overwhelming pain washes over you, but once he starts sucking on your throat and lapping up the blood pouring out of you, the sensation is so pleasurable the sound morphs into a delirious moan. 

It’s sloppy, filthy, and a complete mess as blood seeps from the wound down your neck, chest, and even across your shoulder until it’s soaking the sheets. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind one bit and continues drinking from your vein like it's water. 

In a complete betrayal to your own humanity, feeling him consume your very life source is somehow so sensual you find yourself lacing your fingers through his hair to tug on the black strands. He grunts in response and you feel his dick growing rock hard in his jeans, making you so aroused in return that your hips begin to chase his bulge as he feeds from you.

His fangs recedes from your skin when he begins licking his bite mark and the surrounding area to catch spilled blood. He trails his tongue down the river of red liquid on your chest until it disappears beneath your shirt before returning to your lips to kiss you with his blood stained mouth. 

You gasp at the coppery taste of your own blood as it smears across your face and drips onto your tongue when he forces his own between your teeth. Making out with a vampire who’s just finished feeding from you should be disgusting and terrifying, but you’re soaking wet while tangling your tongue with his amongst all the blood. 

“So good, my darling. Your blood tastes so fucking good,” Jeongguk praises. 

He pulls back to admire you and you return the favor. The bottom half of his face is covered in blood and yet he still looks so handsome. It’s in his hair and some of it even got on his ears, but his wild appearance only makes you want him more. His thumb moves the blood around your cheeks and chin before stopping at your lips to push the digit inside. You respond automatically by hollowing your cheeks around him and gazing up with big, innocent eyes. 

“Oh, my little mortal, just like that.” His eyes turn into deep pools of desire as he moves his finger in and out of your mouth. “Fuck, I cannot wait for you to suck my cock.”

You release him from between your lips and quickly catch your breath.

“Then let me,” you unabashedly beg. “Please?”

Jeongguk’s eyes go wide at your request.

“Do you even know how?”

A sly smile appears on your face.

“In theory, but you can teach me, can’t you?” 

In addition to your question, you take the time to lick the blood off each of Jeongguk’s remaining fingers while holding his gaze. His eyes turn into thin slits in response to your teasing and he starts removing his belt before he even answers you. 

“I am not a human, Y/N. I will not go easy on you,” he warns. 

“Good,” you reply unapologetically. “I don’t want you to.”

Jeongguk sinisterly smiles while moving off of you. Once his back meets the wall facing his bed, he calls you to him with his pointer finger. Obeying without a second thought, you rise to stand in front of him with eager anticipation.

“Kneel.” 

He isn’t using coercion and yet you instantaneously follow his demand by dropping to your knees. The plush rug provides some comfort as you await his next instruction, which he seems to be debating on as he combs your hair away from your face. After tucking some stray pieces behind your ear, he traces your jaw with his fingertip before lifting your chin so you’re staring up at him. 

He’s wearing a proud and undeniably erotic expression, his pupils blown wide with his mouth slightly agape. It’s obvious how much he wants you and your own chest fills with pride the longer you’re on your knees for him.

All while maintaining steamy eye contact, he starts unbuttoning his jeans to kick them off. The first thing you notice is a wet spot on the boxers hugging his thick, muscular thighs and it nearly makes you moan.

“Tongue out,” he commands. 

You immediately do as you're told and it satisfies him enough to reward you by removing his underwear as well. When he does, the sight of his hard cock makes a loud, broken gasp come from your open mouth. 

To put it plainly, his dick is huge, both in length and girth. You don’t technically have anything to compare it to, but you can tell what’s big and what isn’t, especially when it’s that big.

“Is that a vampire thing?” You ask after shutting your mouth.

Jeongguk’s head tilts in confusion.

“Are you asking if vampirism has an impact on penis size?” When you nod, Jeongguk laughs out loud and for a moment he doesn’t look like a creature of the night, but the boy next door. “No, precious, it does not.”

“How old are you again?” 

“More than five hundred, less than a thousand,” he responds. “I am not exactly certain anymore.”

You shake your head while admiring his cock twitching right in front of your face. 

“Maybe men were just built different back then,” you wonder.

Jeongguk seems amused by your affectionate rambling, but refocuses your attention by cupping your cheek. 

“Open wide, my sweet mortal.”

You stick your tongue out as he caresses your cheek in admiration of you completely submitting yourself to him. There’s a triumphant smile on his face as he pumps himself before guiding his dick towards your awaiting lips. You attempt to keep your eyes on his face, but the sight of his tip coming closer has you going cross-eyed as your heart hammers in your chest and when the head of his cock presses down on your tongue, his masculine taste sends your eyes rolling back. 

Despite his earlier warning, he’s unexpectedly gentle as he steadily pushes his length deeper into your mouth. 

“Wrap your lips around me,” he quietly instructs. 

You do so while tentatively sucking on his shaft as his tip finds a home in the confines of your throat. He’s so thick that your lips are stretched to the max, but the pressure and ache in your jaw is surprisingly pleasurable. 

When you bat your eyelashes up at him, Jeongguk looks supremely pleased with your actions so far and a groan comes from deep within his chest at the feeling of your warm mouth encompassing him.

“Good girl.”

Humming in response, you keep your eyes on him while experimentally moving your head closer to his pelvis. The more cock you take into your mouth, the louder Jeongguk’s noises become and the hand on your face possessively sinks into your hair so he can hold you right where he wants you. 

“That is right, darling. Just keep moving your head back and forth.” 

You pull back while inhaling before pushing forward again in an attempt to take more of him into your throat. 

Jeongguk grunts and yanks on your hair when you’re successful and he can feel your esophagus constricting around him. His sounds of pleasure encourage you to keep going and you set a steady pace by bobbing your head while continuously sucking on his shaft. It’s easier than you expected, especially with Jeongguk’s hand on your head helping to guide your movements. 

When your nose finally reaches his pubic bone, his head tips back as he growls deep in his throat. 

“Breathe… through… your nose,” he orders across shaky exhales. “While using… your tongue.”

It seems even without any experience you’re still driving him mad and you feel infinitely smug. You take his advice and inhale through your nostrils so you can lick the underside of his cock when you retreat again. Before sinking back down, you swirl your tongue over his head and the taste of his precum makes you moan. 

He responsively gasps and clutches your hair in his fist as your vibrations meet his cock and once you realize it feels good for him, you repeat the noise while his tip is nestled deep in your throat. 

“Holy fuck.” Jeongguk looks down at you in complete awe. “You are doing so well, precious.”

Although his compliments make you want to continue even more, you momentarily release him to breathe deeply and massage your jaw.

“You don’t have to hold back, Jeongguk.”

His eyes widen as his eyebrows rise up his forehead, then a cheshire grin appears. 

“Do you believe I am holding back for your sake?” He bends over while yanking on your hair so you’re forced to look up into his fierce gaze. “I am just getting started, mortal.”

He whispers the moniker like venom rather than his normal, endeared tone, but it lights you up inside far more than the sweet version of the phrase.

Jeongguk uses his grip to return your head to its previous position and before you can properly prepare, his cock is in your mouth again and you’re choking on his head as it settles in your throat. 

“Do not forget to breathe,” he teases.

It’s his final instruction before thrusting forward, causing you to aggressively gag on his dick as he fucks your throat with relentless effort. You desperately clutch his thighs to keep yourself from falling backwards. Once you’re steady, you focus on suctioning your lips around him so his length can seamlessly move in and out of your mouth. 

If you still had any doubts about Jeongguk being a monster, they all fly out the window due to his erotic assault on your throat. 

Truthfully, this moment should have you running for the hills because he clearly cares more about his pleasure than the well being of your esophagus, but after months of him making you see stars, you figure it’s time to return the favor. 

Your nails sink into the meat of his thighs in an effort to hold onto anything you can, including your sanity, but the longer he pushes his cock into your mouth, the easier it becomes and soon enough you begin licking along his shaft during each of his strokes. 

Jeongguk seems grateful for your diligence, if his incoherent moans and grunts are anything to go by. 

“Oh fuck, darling. Your throat is so fucking tight,” he whines.

When you respond with a pleased hum while his tip is tickling the back of your throat, he gasps in ecstasy and scratches your scalp. He picks up the already monstrous pace afterwards and you have no choice but to hold onto his legs for dear life, bringing tears to your eyes while drool drips from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. 

A noise of surprises passes through your swollen lips when Jeongguk’s other hand steals one of your own to cup his balls that are covered in the saliva leaking from your mouth. You peer upwards with wide eyes and he smirks before providing an answer to your silent question.

“Gently.”

Taking his comment into account, you begin softly fondling his balls which you can tell are heavy with the cum you’ll soon be swallowing. Feeling them in your hand is totally foreign and you aren’t sure how well you’re doing, but Jeongguk’s euphoric expression as you play with his sack is encouraging enough. 

You synthesize the movements of your mouth and hand, doing your best to match the cadence of his hips as he repeatedly sends his cock into your throat. While your tongue swirls around his velvet skin and caresses the large veins on his shaft, your fingers continue to massage his balls that are nearly slapping you with each thrust.

“Yes,” he enthusiastically moans as his head hits the wall behind him. “There you go, my darling.”

There’s something so unequivocally sexy about him teaching you how to pleasure him that sets every nerve ending in your body ablaze. Your sore jaw, swollen lips, chin that’s coated in a mixture of spit and dried blood, and cheeks covered in runny, black mascara are all worth it because you’re finally able to be with the man who’s haunted your dreams and consumed all your thoughts for so long. 

“When I tell you…” Jeongguk groans through strained vocal chords. “Take me as deep as you can to swallow my cum.”

Nodding to the best of your ability with him still stuffed between your lips, you brace yourself for the feeling of his cum shooting down your throat. 

It only takes another minute or so for his balls to clench in your palm and his dick to pulse with an impending orgasm and despite being able to predict what’s about to occur, Jeongguk warns you regardless.

“Fuck. Now.”

You avidly inhale through your nose before pushing your head forward until his entire length is resting in your mouth with his tip deep in your throat. He growls while using your hair to hold you in place as his thighs shake and he comes in hot ropes of white liquid. 

A loud gagging sound accompanies his climax as you swallow everything he’s giving you, the unfamiliar but pleasant taste eventually making you moan once his seed stops dripping from the head of his cock. 

 Even once his orgasm ends, you continue moving your head to lick along his warm skin and clean the remnants of his pleasure off of him. 

“Y/N, be careful what you do to me. You will not be able to handle another round,” he states.

Releasing his cock with a loud pop, you sit back on your heels while gazing up at him.

“Don’t you need time before going again?” 

Jeongguk chuckles while shaking his head, the hand in your hair slowly releasing the strands to slide back down your cheek and wipe away your tears.

“No. As I told you, I am not a human. I do not need to rest or take breaks. I can go all day and night without stopping even once.” The notion of him fucking you without reprieve makes your pussy clench as your thighs twitch with need and he obviously notices the reaction based on the smile he sends you. “Would you like that, my little mortal?” You mindlessly nod. “I can make that happen, precious, but the decision is yours.”

He’s referring to you becoming his mate, an immortal who could keep up with his insatiable need. 

“How does the ritual go?”

Your voice shakes as you ask him about the life altering event and he attempts to comfort you by offering you his hands so you can stand up.

“It is not really a ritual. I just have to come inside of you, your womb, more specifically.”

“That’s it?” Jeongguk nods and you take a couple steps back to sit on his bed. “Would I have to live here like those women?”

“Not if you do not wish to,” he answers. “Although, I am rather greedy, so you will have to be mine as soon as the sun goes down each night.” He pulls his boxers back up and occupies the spot beside you. “You will still be a human and can live life normally for a while, but once your lack of aging becomes noticeable, it would be best for you to stay with me to avoid suspicion.”

A million thoughts swirl in your head as you think about your options and the subsequent consequences. You want Jeongguk more than anything else and that scares you because in order to have him, you have to sacrifice everything you’re looking forward to. If you choose to remain as you are and leave his side, will you ever be able to find someone to compare? Will you regret not accepting his offer of spending eternity together?

“Do they enjoy their life here?” 

Jeongguk smiles assuredly while nodding his head.

“You are more than welcome to ask them any questions you have.” He gestures towards the hallway where you met the women. “They each have their own bedrooms, too. The room you saw is just a lounge we established for them, although most of them sleep with their mates.”

You sigh while pressing your palms into your eyes as a means of focusing. This is all too much at the moment and you don’t know if it’s even possible to decide tonight. 

“I’ll need to think about it, Jeongguk,” you respond.

He removes your hands from your face so he can hold them instead. 

“Of course, my darling. Take all the time you need.” A lingering moment passes before Jeongguk reaches out to run his hands along your thigh. “In the meantime, I would still love to pleasure you. Doing so through our mental connection is not enough for me anymore.”

His statement brings a pink blush to your cheeks and you automatically lean in to kiss him, albeit much softer and slower than your first one. He responds immediately, bringing his other hand up to your cheek as you mold your lips together.  

“Touch me like you did in my dreams, Jeongguk,” you quietly plead. 

He continues to kiss you rather than respond, but his answer comes when he lays you down and proceeds to crawl on top of you. 

You shamelessly make out as he hovers on his forearms above you, the mixture of blood, cum, and salvia on your tongues creating an erotic concoction in your mouths. Jeongguk takes his time exploring your body as though he doesn't intimately know every curve already, but you can both agree it feels so much better touching each other in person rather than your mind. 

“I am going to take my time with you, precious. Do not attempt to rush me.”

Jeongguk gives you a final peck before kissing your neck and collarbones that are still stained with blood. He groans in delight at the taste of the potent liquid while he ceaselessly ravishes your soft, sensitive skin. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you breathe out.

“Do I have free reign to bite you wherever I please?” 

He glances up so your eyes meet when he asks, wanting to see your reaction to his question.

The visceral memory of him feeding from you earlier makes you shiver. 

“As long as you don’t take too much.”

When he sends you a dashing smile in response, your heart sings.

“I am quite the pro, you do not need to worry about that.”

The conversation ends with a harsh sound of fabric tearing and when you look down, your shirt is ripped in half to expose your bra and bare torso.

“Jeongguk!”

He giggles, a hundreds of years old vampire giggles at your poor, tattered shirt as he removes it from underneath you and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor. Before you can protest further, he returns to kissing and sucking on your throat.

“You.” He kisses you. “Your clothes.” Again, only an inch away from his last smooch. “Your possessions.” Another kiss. “Your body.” Kiss. “And your very soul.” Kiss. “Are all mine.” He kisses your pulse point. “I will do what I please with them.”

If you could argue against his claim, you would, but you know just how true it is. 

When Jeongguk realizes you have no retort, he smirks and continues kissing down your front until he reaches the curve of your breasts. He cups them in his large hands and massages you over your bra, making your head fall back into the pillows as you whimper. 

Just like your shirt, your poor undergarment is torn to shreds so he can see your tits unhindered. His initial glimpse must be enjoyable, given that you hear an animalistic growl coming from above you before you feel him mouthing at your skin. 

“You are so soft, darling,” he notes while squeezing and kissing your boobs. “I could do this all night.”

His tongue peaks out for a lick before his teeth gingerly sink into your flesh. He gives the same treatment to your other breast, alternating between kissing, licking, and biting you until he eventually takes your nipple between his teeth. 

You whine as he sucks on the nub to make it pebbled and hard while his hand tweaks the other to match. Even though he’s only fondling your chest, you can feel your cunt practically leaking essence all over you. His hands and mouth are a perfect team who work seamlessly in tandem to drive you insane.

“It feels… so much better… in person,” you pant.

Jeongguk nods in agreement where his face is still buried in your cleavage, but rather than responding to you, he lifts his head, harshly squeezes your tit, and pierces it with his fangs. 

A scream rips from your throat as he sucks your blood straight from the source since he’s right above your heart. Dark, red liquid erratically spills from the wound and runs down the valley between your breasts like a river as your entire torso gets painted crimson. 

“Fuck,” Jeongguk curses. He takes a break to lap up the thick blood with his tongue as more and more pours out of you. “You are s’fucking delicious.”

He returns to the scene of the crime to drink some more as you moan and writhe beneath him. 

When he’s done feasting on you, he licks downwards to circle your nipple with the tip of his tongue before imitating the motion on your opposite breast. The fusion of pain and pleasure sends your mind into subspace and you lose all focus on everything but the man above you.

You think he’s going to keep trailing down your torso to reach the pussy that’s weeping essence for him, but his lips return to yours once he’s done making a mess of you.

“Je.. Jeongguk,” you whimper into his mouth. He hums in response while using his bloody hand to cradle your cheek. “Need you.”

“Where, precious?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth and up your cheek until his lips are on your temple. Meanwhile, you’re still in such a daze that it’s hard to answer him properly.

“Please, just touch me,” you weakly reply.

You can feel Jeongguk smiling where his mouth is on your skin and his lips momentarily caress your forehead before he moves away so you’re eye to eye again.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy, my darling? Hmm?”

All you can bring yourself to do is nod as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for another messy kiss. 

While you continue locking lips and sharing oxygen, Jeongguk’s hands glide down your stomach to ruin the rest of your wardrobe by ripping your pants and underwear off in one go. Once you’re completely bare underneath him, you return the favor by grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He stops kissing you so you can remove the top, but he isn’t able to kiss you again afterwards because you’re busy ogling him.

“Damn.” As if his extraordinarily handsome face wasn’t enough, his torso is chiseled to perfection and he has not six, but eight pretty abdominal muscles. “This isn’t a vampire thing either?”

He steals a kiss while chuckling at your question. 

“No, all me.”

“Insane,” you comment under your breath. 

Jeongguk still hears you and his face scrunches up because of how big his adoring smile is. 

“You are truly such an adorable little human.”

You’re too busy running your fingers along his taut muscles to acknowledge the compliment, but he forcibly reclaims your attention by kissing you again. 

His hands spread your legs apart so he can settle between them before tracing along your skin starting at your knees. He squeezes your supple thighs between his fingers while traveling upwards until his hands finally reach your pussy. When his digits force your folds apart to feel your wet sex pulsing just for him, you both moan in one another’s mouth. Although him touching your cunt is familiar, the previous times are nothing in comparison to having him in person. 

Unlike those nightly rendezvouses, he doesn’t waste any time teasing you and immediately sinks his fingers into your hole with a loud squelch. 

“Oh,” you harshly gasp. 

Him fucking you with his hands and mouth via a mental connection means you’re still technically a virgin and this is the first time someone else’s hand will be inside you. His fingers are significantly longer and bigger than yours, so he only needs two of them to stretch you open. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers against your lips.

He starts pumping his digits in and out of you at a steady pace, using his palm to rub your clit simultaneously. Despite the unfamiliar pressure in your core, the dual sensations feel amazing  and all you can think is that you wouldn’t mind having this, having him, forever. You can imagine yourself 20, 30, and 100 years from now still wanting him just as infinitely as you do today. 

Jeongguk pulls you from your reverie when he begins using his thumb to circle your clit at the same time he speeds up the cadence of his two middle fingers. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you tell him.

“Mm, I can feel you clenching around me,” he replies. “Are you going to come, my darling?”

When you don’t answer right away, Jeongguk bites on your lower lip, tugging on it with his teeth before letting it snap back into place. The sting makes you gasp, but he swallows the noise when he forces his tongue into your mouth again. 

“Yes,” you manage to respond.

The assurance encourages him to speed up again as he repeatedly makes a come hither motion inside your cunt, tickling the just right spot inside you to send your eyes rolling backwards into your skull. 

“Come for me, little mortal.”

It’s all too easy to follow his command when he’s a goddamn expert at fucking his digits into you. 

When you come, it’s more intense than all of the times he’s made you orgasm combined and you have to claw at his biceps just to hold onto something because of how overwhelming it is. 

Jeongguk continues kissing you through the high, if you can even call it a kiss when you’re too busy moaning to return the affection. Your body shakes in his hold as a climax more pleasurable than anything you’ve ever felt in your life courses through you. His fingers are still deep within you gummy walls while your cunt tightens and leaks cum all over his hand, but he keeps going even when you whine from the overstimulation. 

He ends your kiss with a final peck before removing his cum-soaked fingers from your hole and you watch in complete adoration as he places them in his mouth to lick them clean. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans around the two appendages.  

“Does my cum taste as good as my blood?” You tease. 

His responding smirk reignites the arousal in your core and despite your body desperately craving a break, you’re already ready for more. 

Jeongguk snatches your jaw before pulling his hand away from his mouth so he can shove his fingers into yours instead. You gasp in surprise as he gags you by pushing down on your tongue, a devilish grin appearing on his face as he watches you struggle with a lustful fire in his eyes.

“You tell me.”

His hand quickly retreats so you can answer him, but first you sharply inhale while clutching your throat to refill your lungs. 

“Cum… the cum tastes better,” you tell him.

He chuckles while placing his elbows on either side of your head to hover over you as close as possible. 

“Surprisingly, I agree with you.” Jeongguk kisses you for a mere second before descending until his face is directly above your cunt. “Which is precisely why I want more of it.”

“Wait — ah!”

Your nerve endings are still tingling from your last orgasm, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to care as he tauntingly laps up the cum glistening on your pussy. His tongue moves from bottom to top multiple times to collect the wetness before swallowing it with a satisfied hum. Meanwhile the oversensitivity is causing your legs to aggressively shake and clamp around his head from all the pressure in your abdomen and thighs. 

“I want you to come on my tongue before I fuck you, my darling.”

He kisses your clit once and then moves down to kiss along your inner thighs. 

“I thought I have to be a virgin to become your mate,” you retort.

Jeongguk is too busy smooching and sucking on your skin to respond at first, but he eventually gives your thigh a playful bite before glancing up.

“Technically, but in reality it means I must be your one and only sexual partner. So us having sex tonight will not ruin the ritual for later,” he explains. You still look hesitant and Jeongguk tries to pacify you by gently kissing your supple skin. “Would you like that, precious?”

At this point the two of you are covered in a mixture of bodily fluids and the bottom half of Jeongguk’s face is stained light pink from your cum and blood, but he still looks so handsome and somewhat boyish for a creature of the night. His big, brown eyes are gazing up at you expectantly and you can’t imagine telling him no as you comb his messy hair away from his forehead. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper to him. 

He smiles and returns to ravishing your thighs with his mouth while you contentedly sigh and lace your fingers into his black hair.

Just when you think he’ll reclaim your cunt, you cry out because he pierces your inner thigh with his fangs and begins drinking your blood again. It’s less frenzied this time, his lips almost leisurely sucking on your skin to consume you. The stark difference causes you to pathetically whimper as the feeling turns your mind into mush. 

Jeongguk releases you quicker than before, but proceeds to slurp up the remaining blood on your leg. 

“I have never tasted blood as good as yours, Y/N.” He languidly runs his tongue through the liquid while staring up at you. “If I could still use the lord’s name in vain, I would.”

“You can’t?” 

He shakes his head between sloppy kisses along your skin until he reaches your cunt again. 

“There are not many things vampires are unable to do, but that is one of them.”

“What else?” 

Jeongguk chuckles before curling the tip of his tongue through your pussy and effectively silencing you.

“Later, my darling.”

You certainly don’t mind cutting the conversation short so he can make out with your sex, especially since your body’s had time to relax from your initial orgasm. 

While he licks along your slit and circles your hole with the tip of his tongue, he situates your thighs on his shoulders so he has better access to you. His arms wrap around each leg to hold you steady and when you begin writhing with pleasure, he tightens his grip to keep you in place.

His mouth masterfully produces stars behind your eyelids and he uses his evident talent to pull more juices from your hole that he spreads around your lips for an easier glide. It feels messy and sinful, but also so good you think you could climax again in an instant. 

After a while of lackadaisically swirling his tongue through your folds and fucking your hole, he moves upwards to flatten the wet muscle on your clit. The delicious friction makes you whine and your tears of pleasure from earlier return to create more streaks of mascara down your face. 

You’re surprised by his relaxed pace while he eats you out, but you soon realize he was just ramping up for the main event when his fangs teasingly scrape your clit.

“Jeongguk…” 

“This will feel good, Y/N.”

That’s the only warning you receive before he growls and bares his fangs so he can bite right into your cunt. 

The scream which pierces the air is your loudest one yet and you nearly suffocate him when your legs convulse from the intense sensation washing over you. He’s drinking your blood while continuing to flick his tongue over your pearl and the combination of the two actions is indescribable. When you still can’t refrain from flailing around, his fingertips dig into the meat of your thighs so he can literally eat your pussy undisturbed.  

“Oh fuck, Jeongguk,” you helplessly whimper. 

You can’t tell if the euphoria is making your mind blank or you’re simply losing too much blood, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It feels too good to ask him to stop and you don’t believe he would even if you did. 

An orgasm begins to loom over you embarrassingly fast and you can’t even warn him before you’re coming all over his face while you cry out and desperately grip his hair between your fingers. 

Jeongguk repeatedly grunts and moans as he simultaneously feasts from you and swallows your cum. It feels like heaven and hell are combining in your cunt and you have no idea which way is up or down anymore. His fangs are flanking your clit and as your core pulses through the high, more blood flows from the wound right into his awaiting mouth.

“Holy… shit…” you deliriously mumble.

He removes his fangs but continues to lick you, both to clean up all the blood and ensure he’s pleasuring you throughout the entire climax. 

Once your body and mind settle into normalcy and you feel like you can breathe again, Jeongguk kisses along your torso, licking your dried blood as he goes until he can kiss you and make you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I have wanted to do that for so long, my little mortal,” he confesses. “The very second I laid eyes on you I knew you would be mine. I must have you, Y/N, or I will go mad.”

His words act like a magical spell and you nearly tell him to do it; take you completely and make you his for all time. Alas, a rational voice inside your head stops you and you refrain from uttering the life changing words by softly kissing him. 

He returns the gentle affection with a content sigh. His warm, soft lips are swollen from all his previous efforts, but they still feel wonderful against your own. He slowly marries his mouth to yours, allowing your tongues to dance together inside your mouth and you eventually reach up to caress his cheek so he doesn’t go anywhere. Despite how nasty and devious the two of you have been tonight, the kiss is delicately passionate. 

“Please don’t break me,” you murmur. 

He snickers before pulling away to look at you. One of his hands cups your jaw while he runs his thumb along your cheekbone and it feels so calming you momentarily close your eyes.

“Do not worry, my darling. I promise I will make it worth the wait.”

Your eyes catch the movement of him removing his boxers and it causes your heart to pick up its pace. When you see his cock again, you begin to wonder what cards you pulled to exist in this reality, one where you’re about to lose your virginity to someone so entirely gorgeous all over.  

Jeongguk begins coating his length in your cum by gliding the tip through your pussy and you distract yourself with running your hands all along his shoulders and biceps, eventually digging your nails into his skin when he teases your clit with the head of his cock. It’s common to be nervous for your first time, but uncommon for said time to be with a vampire. Ironically, you trust him more than any of the men back on campus with something as fragile as this. 

When he’s sufficiently lubricated, he lines himself up with your hole and you take a deep breath while screwing your eyes shut.

“No, no,” Jeongguk scolds you, using his fingertips to lift your chin up. “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet per his instructions and you almost forget he’s not human for a second. His pretty irises look like they have stars in them and you nearly melt under his ardent gaze. 

“I know it isn’t the same for you, but this means a lot to me,” you tell him.

His head tilts as a confused expression crosses his face.

“You think this does not mean anything to me?”

“I —”

“I have waited hundreds of years to find you, Y/N.”

You’re too awestruck to think of an appropriate reply, so you pull his face down to yours for a searing kiss instead. 

Jeongguk’s free hand lands right beside your face to hold himself up as he slowly pushes his cock into you, using the avid lip lock as a distraction for the pain you’ll no doubt feel when he penetrates you for the first time.

When his head passes through your tight circle of nerves, you animalistically scratch down his arms to relieve the pressure of him steadily filling you up. He shushes you and kisses across your face to keep you at ease, knowing if he hurts you tonight, you won’t trust him enough to become his mate. Besides, he wants to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

“You’re… so… big,” you grunt as he enters you inch by thick inch.

You hear his bashful, melodic chuckle in your ear.

“I know, but I swear I will not ‘break you,’” he teases. 

It takes some time for him to fully sheath himself inside you, but once his dick is pressing against your cervix, you release the air you were holding in while he groans and buries his face in your neck.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him. “I know you’ve been with plenty of women before me.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the wound he gave you earlier tonight. 

“None of them compare to you.” His eyes find yours and it’s easy to see just how much pleasure he’s experiencing from being inside you. “You are fucking perfection, my sweet mortal.”

You cradle his face to admire him for a moment and you swear he almost looks shy over your affectionate stare.

“Will you tell me what it feels like?”

Jeongguk’s brow creases at the unique request, but he grins and complies with a nod. He waits until his lips are beside your ear again and even taunts you by licking along the perimeter of your earlobe. 

“You feel like heaven. You are so tight I can feel your warm walls rubbing against every inch of my cock and so wet you are practically drowning my dick in cum.” His words send a shudder down your spine as he bites on your ear to make you moan for him. “I could have anyone I want, my darling, but I am willing to give all that up just so I can have you for all eternity.” 

He’s doing a ridiculously wonderful job at convincing you to accept his offer and let him fuck his seed into you, but you push the thought away. 

There’s no turning back and you wouldn’t want to anymore, so you inhale and grasp his shoulders in preparation. 

“Fuck me, Jeongguk.”

Those seem to be the magic words to make Jeongguk clutch your hipbone while rearing back so he can completely leave your cunt save for his cockhead. You whine at the sudden emptiness, but it isn’t for long before he menacingly thrusts back in all the way to the hilt. 

Tears instantly prick your eyes as you scream and whimper from the mixture of pain and pleasure. Your veins, nerves, and organs feel like they’re on fire as he naturally sets a disastrous pace of sliding in and out of you. 

You aren’t sure if sex always feels this good or if it’s just sex with Jeongguk, but as the ache slowly dissipates, it makes way for the most amazing sensation you’ve ever felt. 

“Oh, Jeongguk. Holy shit.”

He’s entirely focused on fucking you with all his might, but he lifts his head from your neck to look down at you. 

“Does it feel good, precious?”

You attempt a nod as hot, salty tears fall and make you look like even more of a mess, but Jeongguk just reaches up to wipe the liquid away.

Raking your fingers into his hair, you yank him down for a kiss that seems to motivate him to up the pace of his hips which are already rocking into you with inhumane speed. The change has you crying and writhing in ecstasy within seconds and Jeongguk responds by pinning your hips to the mattress. 

When you still can’t refrain from wiggling, he hooks his arm under your knee and forces your leg up higher. 

The angle brings his pelvis down on top of yours and sends his dick even further into you, making you gasp and sob from the fullness. You instinctively mirror the position with your opposite leg until you’re practically bent in half and Jeongguk clearly enjoys the adjustment because he growls and stops kissing you to heave out a couple deep, panting breaths.

“Fuck, I do not know what I will do if you say no.” The hand carrying his weight moves to your neck. “You have completely ruined me for anyone else. This tight, fucking immaculate pussy is all I can think about.”

You wrap your fingers around his wrist so you have something to anchor yourself to while he continuously pounds into your cunt. 

He lightly chokes you, successfully ceasing your air supply and making the sex feel that much more debilitating. His cock is reaching so far up inside you that it’s almost like his tip is choking you rather than his hand and his reverent confession doesn’t help your dizziness.

“You say that as if I’m not in the exact same boat.” He removes his hand from your throat so you can continue. “For months now all I’ve known is your voice, touch, and presence and I have no idea what I’ll do if that goes away.”

His fingers rake into your hair before tugging on it and tilting your head back to give him access to your neck. He kisses you while his cock abuses your cunt to the point the entire room fills up with the noise of your bodies clapping together. He’s giving you even more bruises as he sucks on your skin and the harmony between his mouth and the big cock stretching you apart is enough to make you forget what you were saying in the first place. 

Jeongguk’s other hand is still clutching your thigh and you wonder if his fingerprints will be left on your skin in the morning, as if he hasn’t already marked you as his ten times over, both metaphorically and physically. 

“I will not let that happen. I will do everything in my power to convince you that being with me is worth it,” he finally replies.

You wish you could properly explain that it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with what you’ll lose. There’s a picturesque future in your head and you don’t know if you’re ready to give up on it. 

“Jeongguk —”

“My precious, beautiful mortal.”

His adoring words melt your insides and silence anything waiting on the tip of your tongue, so you run your nails down his back as a means of expressing what you don’t know how to vocalize. 

He groans at the sensation while readjusting his hands, pressing you deeper into the mattress so he can amp up the speed and force of his strokes. It makes you scratch at his shoulder blades again as the sheer brutality of his hips shoves you further and further up the bed. 

“Jeongguk, I’m close,” you inform him.

“So am I, darling. Where do you want me to come?”

Remembering that he can’t finish inside you without changing your entire body chemistry, you glance down at your torso to decide on the ideal location for his seed. 

“My tits?”

A boyish laugh comes from above you as he bends down to peck your lips.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Your hands naturally move upwards into his hair as he works tirelessly to break you both off. Truthfully, you don’t want your first sexual encounter to end just yet, but your body is begging for rest and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle anymore orgasms.  

Jeongguk kisses you again when he feels your cunt constricting around his cock and you know he’s close too because his heavy balls are hitting your ass with each thrust. 

In the end, it only takes a couple more times of his tip kissing your cervix for you to come with a loud, broken moan.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry.

The orgasm is so volatile it shakes your whole body and you sob hysterically while both your cunt and thighs repeatedly clench, but Jeongguk keeps you steady beneath him as he continues chasing his own high. 

After a couple more minutes of him vigorously rolling his hips into your pussy, he whines while pulling out so he can fist his cock over your chest. Hot, creamy, white cum shoots from his tip and sporadically lands all over your tits, mixing with the blood already there and turning you light pink. It feels absolutely filthy, but the sight of him fucking his hand with his head thrown back is truly one to behold. 

“Shit,” he curses breathlessly. 

His chest is dramatically rising and falling to accommodate the comedown of his orgasm and he’s practically glistening with sweat. He’s still covered in blood just like you, the dark liquid staining his chin, neck, and chest and even dripping all the way down to his v-line. 

Unable to help yourself from the mouth watering sight, you climb to your knees and crawl across the mattress to him before skimming your fingers along his thighs and up his stomach. Locating a trail of blood on his abs, you follow it with your tongue while watching for his reaction. He erotically moans as you lick along his muscular torso until eventually reaching his pecs where you circle his nipple with the tip of your tongue. 

Jeongguk looks unequivocally fucked out, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with desire as he watches you in a sensual daze. He grabs your nape to guide you towards his face, but you ignore him and start kissing his neck instead. 

Another moan leaves his lips when you swirl your tongue on his hot skin, seemingly causing him to forget what he was doing as his fingers intertwine in your hair. 

You finish your exploration by biting him right where he first drank from you and his deep, low chuckle makes you smile as your teeth scrape his throat. 

“Be careful, darling. I do not think you will survive me taking you again,” he taunts.

Heeding his advice, you fall backwards onto the bed with a soft thump. 

He crawls over you again, hovering so close that the cum on your chest smears onto his own.

“You’ve made quite the mess of me, vampire.” Jeongguk playfully bares his fangs and you giggle while tracing one of them with your thumb. “Care to clean me up?”

He combs your messy hair out of your eyes before replying. 

“I will run you a bath.”

Before he’s able to fully stand and leave, you grab his wrist to stop him.

“And you’ll join me?” You ask hopefully.

Your endearing expression has him shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

“You are an insatiable little thing, are you not?”

Giggling in accomplishment, you sit on the edge of his bed to watch him stroll into the en suite bathroom.

He returns a moment later and stretches his hand towards you, which you gladly take so he can lead you into the bathroom where a large tub full of water and soap bubbles awaits.

“A bubble bath?” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. “Oh, and you’re supposed to be some big, scary vampire.”

“Watch it, mortal,” he warns.

You smirk at him before stepping into the bath one foot at a time and turning around for him to take your hands and join you. Once he does, you let him sit so you can occupy the space between his open legs. 

It might not be the cleanest bath, since the water soon turns pastel pink from the mixture of shared bodily fluids washing off of your skin, but it feels wonderful on all your sore muscles. 

Jeongguk wraps his arms around your waist while placing soft kisses over each of your hickeys and the single bite mark on your neck. Being completely encompassed by him in the warmth of the tub calms your nerves and you contentedly sink deeper into the water before resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Will you sing to me?” You ask while tracing a large vein running down his forearm.

“Sing to you?”

“Mmhm.” Twisting your head around, you meet his eyes over your shoulder. “At first, it’s all I knew about you and after three months of hearing you sing to me every night, I’m just so used to your voice.” A bashful blush appears on your cheeks. “It brings me comfort.”

He smiles at your explanation.

“I have never done that,” he replies.

“What do you mean?”

“Vampires each have a unique power they can use to lure mortals in and mine is the gift of song, but I have never used mine to serenade someone, only to capture their attention or subdue them.”

“Oh.”

Jeongguk frowns at the disappointment in your voice before moving your wet hair aside so he can tilt your chin up.

“How about I make you a deal, precious? If you become my mate, the first thing I will do is sing to you.”

“Ugh, it’s so unfair to use that as a bargaining chip,” you complain. 

Your obvious indignation makes a laugh rumble through his chest.

“I already told you, darling, everything I do is for selfish reasons. I do not care about playing fair when it comes to convincing you.”

Before you can protest again, he steals a slow, sensual kiss by gripping your jaw and pulling you closer. 

Once you’re both clean of the remnants of your affair, Jeongguk helps you out of the bath and wraps a large towel around you. He leaves for a moment to get some supplies and clothes from the girls since he shredded every article of clothing you had. Upon his return, you do a short skincare routine and dawn the comfortable hoodie and sweatpants he brought you. 

Thankfully, the baggy clothes cover all of your bite marks and hickeys that you have no reasonable explanation for. It’s already morning and you feel awful for leaving without telling Emily and hope she isn’t too angry with you for disappearing last night. 

Jeongguk can’t go outside with the sun up so he only escorts you to the door before giving you a long, passionate goodbye kiss.

“Will you visit me tonight?” You ask just before heading out.

“No I will not, my little mortal.” When you pout, he uses the back of his hand to caress your cheekbone. “I do not want my presence to sway your decision either way. I think it is best we stay apart until you make up your mind.”

For some reason, and maybe because you know him well enough now, you think it’s the exact opposite and he actually wants you to miss him so bad that you say yes. 

Jeongguk notices the inquisitive look on your face and immediately realizes he’s been caught red handed, but he doesn’t change his answer. 

You leave with a reluctant wave goodbye before using your phone to guide you back to campus. When you arrive and unlock the door to your dorm room, Emily springs from her bed and nearly topples you to the ground with how forcefully she hugs you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Your best friend is practically shaking in your arms and you feel immensely guilty. “I thought something horrible happened to you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whisper to her. 

“It’s okay. I’m just so happy you’re alright.” She takes your hands after you part. “When we found that guy unconscious and you were nowhere in sight, I freaked out.”

“I went home with someone. We didn’t… we didn’t do anything.” You utterly despise lying to her, but she can’t know where you actually were. “He helped me when that guy wouldn’t take no for an answer, but I was so frazzled afterwards that he offered to take me back to his place. I got a good night's sleep, took a hot shower, and then he gave me these clothes to come back in.”

“Wow, what a gentleman,” Emily comments.

All you do is smile, not wanting to say any more and risk her catching onto your deception. 

Even though she seems to believe you, she gives you space because she can tell you’re still not yourself. You hug her again while thanking her for being such a good friend before heading to your bed to get some sleep. 

The only issue is you aren’t able to fall asleep because you’re missing a key element. 

Without Jeongguk’s voice and presence, your mind feels unbearably empty and the stark silence makes it impossible for you to catch a single wink.

It goes on like that for three days before you finally break. 

When night falls after a straight 72 hours of being wide awake, give or take a couple cat naps you managed to slip in, you leave a note entirely full of lies for Emily and retrace your steps back to the mansion.

Upon arriving at your destination, you repetitively bang on the door before stepping back to await an answer, but when it swings open, the people behind it aren’t who you’re expecting to see.

Six gorgeous men stand before you, all twelve pairs of eyes curiously observing you.

The sight momentarily frightens you, but then you remember Jeongguk mentioning he has six older brothers. You’re positive there’s no actual blood relation between them, but it also seems like too good of a coincidence for all seven of them to be absolutely breathtaking. 

“How is all of you being this handsome not a vampire thing?” 

A couple of the men laugh while others raise their eyebrows at your boldness.

“How can we help you, gorgeous?” A tall man with dragon eyes asks you.

“Is Jeongguk home?” 

“Oh, you must be Y/N,” the one beside him with plush, doll lips states.

“Yes…”

Jeongguk must not have been exaggerating about how much you occupy his thoughts since everyone in his home already knows exactly who you are. 

“He is in his room,” a shorter blond man tells you.

One of them gestures for you to come inside and after briefly thanking them, you head down the familiar hall until you reach the door you recognize as his. It swings opens to reveal the man in question before you even get the chance to knock, no doubt because Jeongguk heard your heartbeat right outside his room.

“What are you doing here?” 

His voice automatically eases your tired mind and you suddenly want nothing more than to run straight into his arms.

“I may regret this for… well, forever, but I don’t think I can live without you.” Jeongguk’s already huge eyes become massive pools of chocolate as an expression of pleasant surprises takes over his face. “I’m here so you can make me yours, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear anything else and you experience his superhuman speed for the first time when he captures your waist, yanks you off the ground, and carries you into his bedroom all in a single millisecond. 

Before you can even comprehend what just occured, he’s pressing you against the wall and using a firm grip on your thighs to wrap your legs around his middle. He tilts his hips forward, effectively pinning you down before tracing your entire outline. Once his hands reach your face, he rakes his fingers into your hair to fiercely kiss you. 

He acts as though you were parted for months and not days, feverishly chasing after your lips like you could vanish beneath his arms any minute. His enthusiasm and evident need makes it impossible for you to keep up, so you let him take the lead while circling his neck and tugging on the black strands at his nape. 

Whether or not he’s capable of loving you, he certainly kisses you like he does.

“Are you positive? I will not be able to stop once I start.”

You’re both panting after successfully stealing one another’s oxygen and Jeongguk’s hands are trailing down your face, neck, and shoulders as though he can’t believe you’re here in front of him. 

“I’m sure. I want you. Now and forever,” you wholeheartedly admit. 

Jeongguk shakes his head in disbelief as a massive grin forms. 

“Oh, my darling.”

He lifts you again and turns around to send you both tumbling onto the bed, your two sets of limbs tangling together as you continue to make out. 

His hands steal yours from behind his head to pin them to the mattress, giving him complete control over you as he pushes on them just to prove it. You don’t protest being held captive, though, in fact the feeling of being totally surrounded by him is pure heaven after missing him so much over the last three days. 

As Jeongguk ceaselessly molds his mouth to yours until you aren’t sure when you end and he begins, his hips grind over your crotch and you can feel his bulge rubbing against your already soaked pussy.

“Please, I wanna be full of you again,” you pathetically confess.

Just dry humping is sending your mind into a tailspin as your immense need for him overwhelms all of your senses, but the feeling must be mutual because Jeonnguk leaves you with a final kiss before standing over you at the edge of his bed. 

“Strip down for me. Then get on all fours,” he commands. 

You comply without another thought and quickly remove your clothes before situating yourself on your hands and knees in the middle of the mattress. 

Jeongguk looks pleased with your steadfast obedience as he smirks at you being in such a vulnerable position, stark naked on his bed. 

He proceeds to take off his own clothes and you watch in awe and pure hunger while he strokes himself to full hardness. Once he’s erect and twitching in his own palm, he makes a twirling motion with his finger as an instruction to face forward before climbing onto the bed behind you. 

You do as he says and turn to the headboard while slowly breathing in and out to calm your nerves that are tingling with anticipation. 

“You look exquisite like this, my little mortal.”

His hands find your hips as he explores your waist, ass and thighs with his fingertips. He spends a tortuous amount of time caressing your skin rather than fucking you like you want him to, causing you to impatiently whine his name after a while. 

“Please, Jeongguk, I need you so bad.”

There’s an airy chuckle followed by the harsh sound of a clap as he spanks you hard. The initial sting makes you gasp and lurch up the bed, but he tugs you back into place with a low growl. 

The next thing you know his chest is touching your back as he bends over you to speak directly into your ear.

“We will have all of eternity together after this, precious. I am going to take my time.”

You turn your head to capture his lips, causing a noise of surprise from him that makes you giggle into the kiss. When you end the smooch all too soon, Jeongguk chases after your face for another peck.

“The sooner you fill me with your cum, the sooner we can fuck nonstop,” you argue.

Jeongguk tilts his head with a saccharine grin.

“That is fair.” He rises to his knees again. “This is the point of no return, my darling.”

“Good,” you whisper assuredly.

He clicks his tongue at you before leaning in so you can feel his hard cock against your ass and you moan as he moves his hips to slowly lubricate his shaft with your essence. 

Just when you think he’s going to penetrate you, his hand lands on your hair and he forces your face down into his pillows. You grunt while turning your head so you can still breathe, but the air in your lungs is stolen from you when he aggressively tilts your hips until your back arches. 

“There we go. Much better,” he coos.

Without any further warning, he thrusts forward and sheathes his entire cock inside of you in one movement. You cry out, shoving your face into the pillows and clutching his sheets in your fists to relieve the pressure. 

His dick feels infinitely deeper in this position and you swear you can taste him in your throat, at the very least he’s rearranging your guts. 

Jeongguk groans at the same time his hands grip your ass to spread your cheeks apart and provide him with the perfect view of your pussy stretching around his cock. 

“Oh, fucking hell. If I could die, you would be the death of me.”

If you weren’t currently smothering your face with pillows just to survive, you would have a witty reply. 

“Jeongguk —”

“I know, I know,” he pacifies you. “There is no need to beg, soon enough you will be so full of my seed it will be dripping out of you.”

True to his word, he doesn’t wait any longer before using his grasp on your hips to spear you on his cock. Sharp, desperate sobs come from you when he immediately sets a monstrous pace and you nearly tear his sheets with how forcefully you’re holding onto them. 

Him fucking you from behind feels unbelievable, but it shuts down every system in your brain and your body has to run on muscle memory alone to control your movements. Although, you aren’t doing much besides whimpering and moaning while Jeongguk does all the work. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, based on the animalistic sounds coming from his throat, he prefers being able to manhandle you and use your body however he pleases. 

“Shit, you take me so well, precious,” he praises.

When he adjusts your hips again to arch your back even more, you’re forced to bite into his pillow, but it still doesn’t muffle your rabid screams.

His cock is continually penetrating you with so much force and in such quick succession that you worry about him actually tearing you in half. Yet he doesn’t let up for a single second, and along with his balls slapping your clit with each thrust, you aren’t sure you’ll survive long enough to become his mate. 

“Jeo… Jeongguk,” you incoherently moan.

Honestly, you may forget all other words but his name before this is over.

He responds to your call by using his hand as a ponytail and yanking your head up. The new angle it forces your body into sends his cock even deeper into your cunt and you both loudly cry out in pleasure. 

“You are so… fucking tight,” he grunts. “And your cunt is leaking all over me.”

You can hear exactly what he’s talking about, an erotic squelching sound that accompanies each of his strokes proving his statement correct. 

As your end grows near, your pussy relentlessly pulses around Jeongguk, making him growl under his breath before pulling you up until your back meets his chest. He secures you in place by wrapping his hand around your throat as his other one continues guiding your hips to bring your cunt down onto his cock over and over. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine when the new position provides his tip with the perfect target inside your pussy.

“Mm, my little mortal must be enjoying herself, huh?”

His fingers spread out along your jugular so he can still choke you while licking and kissing your neck between his digits. 

“Bite me, Jeongguk,” you breathlessly chant. 

“No.” His teeth playfully dig into your neck, but nothing more. “Not until you are immortal. There has not been enough time for your body to replenish what I took last time.”

“Will that be soon?” 

Jeongguk laughs at the subtle way you tell him to hurry up.

“Yes, my darling.”

He shoves you back down before retaking your hair like reigns and speeding up his thrusts. His inhumane tempo makes you arch your back again as you keen and sob at the sensation of his cock’s thick veins and ridges rubbing along your inner walls. It feels like you could burst from all the pressure in your core, thighs, and abdomen and before you can tell him as such, your cunt clenches and you come all over him.

“Ahh, fuck.”

Hot tears roll down your face and collect on your chin as an ungodly orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your nails bite the sheets and your entire body shakes in Jeongguk’s hold because it’s more intense than any of your prior climaxes combined and all you can do is scream and pant as it works its way through your body.

Your high causes a chain reaction and Jeongguk’s hips momentarily falter as your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, bringing him right to the precipice of ecstasy. 

“Y/N, I am going to come.”

He isn’t just warning you for the sake of it, but because there’s truly no going back after this. If you let him come inside you, your life as a mere human ends here and now.

There is no choice for you to make; he’s already completely conquered you, body and soul. 

“Do it.”

Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice and he shoves your face back into the pillows before ferociously thrusting into your cunt. His dick swells where it’s buried deep inside of you and soon enough you feel his warm semen filling you up. It’s then you realize why he chose this position and pushed your face down when he came, because once his seed reaches your womb, it feels as though your entire body is being torn to pieces.  

The scream that meets his pillows is horrific and gruesome despite being severely muffled by fabric. You wail and convulse as a burning sensation overtakes you, turning all of your nerve endings into small flames that ravage your insides. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” Jeongguk pants. “I promise it will not last much longer.”

He’s right, and the feeling of a cool ice bath gradually douses each flame, replacing the pain with a soothing sensation that relieves the ache and grants you the ability to breathe again.

When Jeongguk pulls out, you automatically crash into the mattress from sheer exhaustion. He runs his fingers through your hair to move it aside, surveying your face so he can make sure you’re alright. 

“Thanks for the warning,” you dryly joke.

“I did not want to scare you by explaining what it would feel like,” he explains. 

“Did it work?”

As delicately as possible, he pulls you into his lap before sitting with you against the headboard. His arms keep you close as you rest your head on his bare chest while taking deep breaths to replace all the oxygen you lost.

Once you’re comfortable, he tilts your chin to the side where he’s softly running his thumb across your skin.

“See?” It takes you a second to realize you’re spotless and the hickeys and bite mark from before are gone. “You are pristine, my little mortal.” He kisses you where the wound once was. “And all mine.”

A smile breaks out across your face without you even realizing it.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

Jeongguk affectionately rolls his eyes before stealing a kiss from you, but he follows through on his promise, and it turns out his melodic, captivating voice is even more beautiful in person.

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

The campus is chaotic as usual. Some students chat with each, some rush to class while others complete their due assignments in record time. You're walking with your friend, Sophia. Partially listening to her endless stories about some sort of drama currently going on in her life.

You and Sophia love each other to bits and have been best friends ever since you started your first year of college but you're polar opposites. She's just an average student, quite extroverted and well her love life is insane. Infact insane's an understatement. She's got a new guy every two weeks. And you're not even exaggerating. You've seen it with your own eyes - completely different guys come to pick her to take her out and she comes home disheveled. She blames her behaviour on 'being young and wanting to experiment.'

You on the hand, you're an introverted nerd. You're not a fan of large crowds, many friends or even being seen much. And well that's how it's always been. If you weren't hanging out with Sophia, you were lost in romance novels or buried in books...

As you and Sophia walk down the bust hallway to an English lecture, you make eye contact with Jungkook and you swear your heart stops beating. He's standing with his friends and of course a few girls by his side who are desperate for his attention. You look away quickly, feeling heat rush up to your cheeks.

This might sound like one of the cheesy, romantic novels you read, yes he is the college's heartthrob/fuckboy you've had the fattest crush on for a few years now.

It's not that simple though... Not at all. Your life is anything but a cute, little love story. Unlike in your novels where the main character gets the boy she's pined over for years, you're not getting that happy ending. And you're ninety-nine percent sure.

The lecture drags on forever. Usually you enjoy English class since it's your favourite lesson but today you're eager to get back to your dorm.

Once the lecture's over, Sophia bids you goodbye . Your rooms are far away from each other and today's Friday, which means she's got a date with a new hot guy. You rush through campus, clutching your books a little too tightly against your chest. Keeping your head down, you weave through the bust crowd until you finally make it to the quieter hallway of you dormitory.

Your hand trembles slightly in your hand as you unlock you room door. *Stupid nerves*. The second you get in, you lock the door and put all of your stuff down. You take a moment to breathe before looking at the clock hung on the wall.

Your heart gives a little flutter, you don't have much time. You toe off your shoes and clothes then make a beeline to the bathroom.

The sound of water rushing in the shower is enough to drown out the thoughts tumbling through your head. On what you're about to do, again and again...

Steam fills the tiny space, fogging the mirror as you step under the hot spray. It feels so good against your skin. But it does nothing for the butterflies in your stomach. You grab your favourite shower gel (the one with the sweetest scent) and lather it over your body and hair. You want to smell and feel nice. You want to-

Your train of thoughts is cut when there's a knock at the front door. *Shit *. You turn off the faucet and wrap a towel around yourself and nearly slip since you're still really wet. Panic surges even more when there's another impatient knock. You put zero effort into tying your wet hair. Why is he so early? You unlock the door and open it, just a little so that he sees your only sees your face.

"You're fifteen minutes early Jungkook." you remind him shyly.

Jungkook's leaning lazily against the doorframe with a cocky grin tugging at his lips. His dark hair falls over his forehead. It's damp, like he just showered too. His black hoodie hangs loose over his broad shoulders. He doesn't even try to hide the way his eyes flick down, catching the edge of the towel on your collarbone before darting back up to your face.

"Couldn't wait," he says, voice low, casual, like it's the most normal thing in the world for him to show up at your door earlier than planned. "Miss me that much?"

You roll your eyes despite the nerves and tighten your grip on the towel with one hand and glaring at him through the small crack in the door.

"Or maybe," you whisper sharply, "I just enjoy being ambushed when I'm half-naked and soaking wet."

That grin widens. "Half-naked, huh? Baby, you make it too easy for me." He shifts his weight, trying to push the door open with his shoulder but you block him with your body.

"Jungkook," you warn. "Let me get dressed first."

He hums, feigning deep thought. "Hmm... I could wait out here." He leans a little closer, voice dipping, "Or you could let me in and save us both some time."

Your cheeks heat up. You hate how his teasing works its way under your skin every single time. He knows it too, he's watching you with that boyish glint in his eyes, the one that makes every girl on campus fall all over him.

You sigh, stepping back just enough for him to slip inside. The second the door clicks shut behind him, Jungkook's already taken off his sneakers and moving like he owns the place. His presence fills your tiny dorm instantly

The amazing scent of his cologne has you mentally drooling over him. The sound of his soft chuckle as he glances at your messy bed and the towel barely clinging to you, has a zoo in your stomach.

"You smell good," he murmurs, eyes darkening as they sweep over you again. He wets his lips before "Shower just for me?"

Your heart stutters but you scoff and brush past him to grab your robe. "Why would you even think that? I had just a long day today and wanted to feel comfortable."

That's a lie, well partially. Yes you kind of did shower and use your sweet-scented, expensive wash because you knew he'd be coming over. But anyways he doesn't need to know that.

As soon as your silky robe is tied around your body, he comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. He pulls you flush against him and you almost moan at the feeling of his already hardened bulge. Did he really get hard from seeing you wet in a towel?

You freeze for half a second, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of your shower gel makes your head spin.

"Jungkook-" you start but the word barely makes it past your throat before his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

"You're cute when you lie," he murmurs, his breath is warm against your skin when he leaves a wet kiss under your ear. "You did shower for me."

Your body betrays because you're practically shivering in his hold.

"Don't flatter yourself." you whisper, though it comes out weaker than you intend.

He chuckles softly, low in his chest and it vibrates against your back. "I don't have to. You always give yourself away."

He nips lightly at your jawline, just enough to make your breath hitch. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands skim over the silk of your robe, his fingers toying with the tie at your waist.

"Five rounds tonight?" he teases His voice low is and lazy. He doesn't even understand what that does to you. Scratch that, he definitely does.

Your knees nearly buckle. You seriously cannot be this down bad for the college's man-whore.

"You're unbelievable Jungkook." you mutter and grip his wrist to stop him from undoing the knot... though you don't pull his hands away completely.

"Hmm. And yet... " he hums, tilting his head to kiss the curve of your neck. "you keep letting me in."

You close your eyes, hating and loving how right he is.He presses closer against you so that the edge of the table bites into your thighs. His hands slide over your hips, palms warm through the thin silk of your robe.

"You're shaking," he murmurs against your neck. His teeth graze the spot just below your ear. "Relax for me."

"I'm not-" you start but the words die in your throat when his fingers slip under the edge of the robe, stroking the inside of your thigh in slow circles.

"You are," he says, his voice laced with amusement. "You always do this -pretend that you're so unaffected by me." His breath hits your skin as he dips his head lower, kissing down the side of your neck until his mouth finds the slope of your collarbone. "But your body betrays you. " he says as he squeezes your thigh.

He flips the hem of your rope up with one hand, his knuckles drag against your bare skin. His other hand slides between your legs, fingers carress your skin to make you gasp and grip the edge of the table tightly.

"I missed you. Why didn't you come say hi to me in the morning?" he murmurs, lips brushing your the back of your neck.

Why didn't you say hi to him in the morning? How could you? You're literally each other's biggest secrets. And besides, he seemed to be super comfortable with those hoes all at his side. He was probably plotting and choosing which one of them would be his next fuck for the weekend.

You have to remind yourself not to dwell on that. He's not yours and will never be. You just got lucky enough to be in this position with him... To have this whole sexual relationship with him. Yes as ashamed as you are, you're okay with this. Being his fuck buddy is way better than being the invisible nerd with a secret crush on him...

His mouth moves lower. He licks a warm trail down your spine before crouching behind you. The silk of your robe pools around your waist as he tugs it up, exposing you to the cool air. He's quiet for a moment, just breathing you in before his tongue drags a long, slow stripe from the back of your thigh up to where you're already unsurprisingly, soaking wet.

Your knees almost give out. A startled sound slips from your lips, echoing off the walls of your tiny dorm.

"That's it," Jungkook mutters against you, his voice is rough now. "That's what I like to hear."

His fingers follow, sliding between your heat and rubbing slow circles. He licks again, deeper this time. His fingers working in tandem with his tongue until your hips are pushing back against him without you even realising. Your robe's still on, bunched up in Jungkook's fist at your waist. He stands up and his chest is pressed to your back. The same arm, holding your robe wraps around you to steady you, while the other stays between your legs. He licks the taste of you from his lips, his voice a low growl against your ear.

"Bend over for me, baby."

You grip the edge of the table and obey him. Your forehead rests against the cool surface of the small kitchen's table. Behind you, you feel him push the robe up higher. You bite your lip hard at the feeling of his hardness pressed against you through his sweats which he soon pulls down to his knees, along with his boxers.

He teases you with his tip, dragging it against your slick folds before his fingers slide inside one more time slowly.

"God, you're so wet," he mutters, more to himself than to you, and then he asks : "You ready?"

You nod, trembling as you carry on biting down on your lip.

"Say it." he coaxes, fingers curling just enough to make you gasp.

"I'm ready Jungkook." you whisper and it sounds like a confession.

He smirks softly and positions himself, the blunt head of him is wet with your arousal now. The sound that leaves you when he enters you is somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Your hands claw at the table's edge like it's the only thing keeping you upright. He's big, stretching thoroughly and your walls clench tight around him.

"Fuck," Jungkook groans behind you, his hips stuttering as he bottoms out. "Tight as ever." His forehead drops briefly against your shoulder. His breath comes out heavy, like even he needs a second to adjust.

His palm slides up over your stomach greedily, until it finds your breast. He squeezes it, his thumb brushes over your nipple, and you moan out softly.

"That's better," he mutters roughly. "Needed to feel these." He pinches lightly, making you jolt under him. "God, you sound so sweet when I touch you."

He pulls out slowly before slamming forward again. The table creaks under the force, your body jolts but his arm around your middle keeps you from slipping away. He sets that rhythm that you love. His thrusts are deep, they have your legs trembling and eyes rolling back. Every time he thrusts into you, his hand at your breast tightens. His thumb flickers over the sensitive bud until you're whining and arching for him.

"You like that, don't you?" he breathes against your ear, hips snapping forward with slaps of skin on skin. "Me playing with your tits while I fuck you from behind?"

You bite down on your lip again, trying to hold back the sounds clawing their way out of you. You love when he talks like this to you.

"Don't hide them," he says as he rolls his hips deeper, angling just right until you choke on a moan. "Let me hear how much you love it."

Your resolve shatters and the room fills with the wet sound of him thrusting into you, along with your broken little cries as his fingers twist and tease your nipple. His other hand slides lower, finding your clit as he pounds into you. The added sensation has you squirming beneath him.

"Shit- ah fuck, baby," he growls, hips speed up. His thrusts push you harder against the table. "You feel so good baby. You always feel so good."

You can't form proper words anymore, there are just whimpers and moans spilling from you. Your walls tighten around him again. Jungkook feels you clenching around him. His breath grows harsher, grunts punctuating his thrusts as his hand at your breast grips harder. "You're close, huh? Gonna come for me while I'm buried inside you?"

Your whole body jerks when you orgasm. A strangled cry rips out of your throat and the table digs into your hips as your legs threaten to give out ( they probably would if Jungkook wasn't holding you so firmly) . You're clenching around him so tight it's almost painful. Jungkook groans a curse into your damp hair. He carries on thrusting into you, fucking you through the orgasm.

"Fuck yeah, that's it. Come all over my cock, baby. Just like that." he grits out, his thrusts getting sloppier the harder you pulse around him.

You're gasping, your chest is pressed into the table, his hand still holding your robe bunched up under your breasts while the other stays holding your hip, keeping you in place. He pulls back suddenly with a low growl, pulling out at just the right time, before he releases into you. You barely have time to turn your head before he holds his cock in his hand, pumps himself twice and groans. Thick, warm ropes spill across the curve of your ass and the backs of your thighs. The sound he makes is downright filthy and guttural.

You shiver at the mess but you love it. His palm spreads his release with a lazy swipe over your ass cheek.

"God damn..." he pants. His chest heaving as he smears his release with his thumb. 

He leaves another kiss at the back of your neck and before you can catch your breath, he grips your hips and flips you around. The table digs into your lower back as he cages you in. You squeak in surprise when he hauls you up so your legs wrap tight around his waist like instinct. The next thing you know, his mouth crashes onto yours. His tongue eagerly pushes past your lips and you whimper into him, clutching at his hoodie, trying to secure yourself while he eats at your mouth.

When he pulls back, there's a thin string of spit between you. He lifts his head to look at you. "Crazy, huh? College's little bookworm... always quiet in class, hiding behind her glasses... " his hips grind against your soaked core, making you gasp loud. "But look at you now. Fucking dripping. Moaning like a slut just for me."

"Jungkook -" you breathe, your protest is lost in another gasp as he grabs the tie of your robe and yanks it open. The silk falls apart, leaving you completely bare to him.

"Fuck." he mutters, eyes darting down. He doesn't waste a any time. His mouth latches onto your neck, wet kisses trailing down your throat to your collarbone. You cry out softly when he sucks on your skin hard enough to leave a mark. His teeth graze your skin before moving lower.

His lips close around your nipple, while his other hand needs the soft flesh of your other breast. "These are perfect." he groans against your skin, flicking his tongue making you arch into his mouth with a desperate whine.

"Too loud for the library, huh?" he teases, biting lightly at the soft flesh before switching to your other breast. "Bet Sophia's got no clue her little bookworm bestie's getting fucked stupid on a table."

Your face burns from embarrassment. But still, your back arches more to feel him and our nails dig into his shoulders. "Please-" your voice high and desperate.

"Please what?" he grins up at you, lips glistening as he gives your nipple a final, sloppy suck. His hips roll against you, grinding his still-hard length against your soaked heat, smearing the mess he left on you earlier. "Use your words, nerd."

The filthy grind has you trembling and your breath catching. You're clinging to him so tightly your thighs shake around his waist. "Please... I need you. I need more."

Jungkook kisses yours again hungrily. His hand sneaks back down between your legs, fingers spreading you open as his cock drags against your folds.

"You're still dripping," he smirks against your mouth. "Such a good girl , huh? Letting me fuck you dumb in your apartment when you should be, what? Reading?"

You shake your head frantically, nails scraping down his back, wishing he'd finally take off his stupid hoodie. The sound of your moans filling the room, as he rubs your clit. He swallows them up with another dirty kiss, groaning into your mouth, lining himself up at your entrance again.

Your whole body aches, every muscle aching from what just happened. The sheets are sticking to your skin, your hair is a tangled mess against the pillow and you can barely catch your breath.

Jungkook, of course, looks nothing like the wreck he's turned you into. He's sitting up at the edge of your bed sweat cooling on his skin as he pulls his hoodie back on like it's no big deal. His phone lights up in his hand and you hear him mumble something about a party one of his friends is throwing.

You roll onto your side, cheek pressed against the pillow and you watch him. Your limbs feel heavy but your eyes trace the veins and ink down his forearm, the curve of his jaw and the way he chews on his lip like he's debating something. He looks so edible like this. If you weren't so fucked, you'd probably get on your knees right now and suck him off.

His gaze flicks to you and his smirk fades for just a second and there's something different in his eyes. He takes in the sight of you sprawled out, looking so cute yet ruined by him.

"You want me to go?" he asks, his voice is lower than before. He twirls his phone in his hand. "I can stay and order takeout. Your call."

Your lips part in surprise. Jungkook hardly ever asks about staying over for longer. He usually just leaves when he's had his fun. So the fact that he's offering makes your heart race but you swallow it down quick.

"You've got a party." you say, your voice is a bit sore from how loud you'd been minutes ago.

He shrugs and keeps his eyes on you. "Yeah. But I don't have to go."

He says it so casually, like staying here would be just as easy as going out. His expression shifts back into that cocky smirk but the way he's watching you makes your chest feel tight.

"You look like you're about to pass out anyway," he adds, leaning back on his palms. "So maybe I should stay. Keep you company and feed you. Can't have the campus nerd starving after I fucked her brain out, right?"

His teasing tone makes your cheeks heat for the hundredth time but you don't bother snapping back since you don't have the energy to. You just pull the blanket higher over yourself, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as he unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through food apps like he's already made up his mind and decided to stay with you.

He scrolls lazily through his phone, his eyes half on the screen and half on you.

"Alright, nerd," he says, "What do you want? Pepperoni? extra cheese? BBQ chicken? Don't say plain cheese or I'll block your number."

You groan from under your blanket. "I don't care, just no mushrooms. You know I hate them."

He smirks, clicking his tongue. "Yeah, yeah. Mushroom phobia. I remember." His gaze lingers on you before he looks back down, scrolling kn his phone again. "We'll do half pepperoni, half BBQ chicken. Extra cheese, jalapeños. Some wings too. And garlic bread. Happy?"

You peek at him, way too tired to argue but your stomach growls in answer. Jungkook grins like he won. "Thought so." He places the order without asking twice.

You drag yourself up and mutter, "I need to shower before the food comes." and you shuffle to the bathroom.

You're halfway under the spray when you hear the creak of the bathroom door, then the soft click of it shutting.

"Move over." Jungkook's voice comes.

Your eyes widen. "Jungkook-"

He's already pulling his hoodie over his head and tossing it carelessly onto the counter. He takes off the rest of his clothes and before you can protest, he's stepping into the shower with you. Water streams down over his dark hair and over his body.

You blink, your throat's dry. God, he looks so hot like this. Like a Calvin Klein ad come to life.

He catches you staring, of course, and smirks at you. "You really can't help but admire me, huh?"

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and shove his shoulder. "Shut up. You're hogging the water."

Jungkook laughs, brushing his wet hair back with his hand before leaning in to cage you lightly against the tile. "Baby, you're smaller than me. I'm not hogging anything."

"Then why am I freezing?" you retort, shoving past him to get back under the warm spray.

He smirks, stepping right behind you, his chest is flush against your back. "Better?"

The hot water rushes over you, it feels amazing. But you can't even lie, it feels more amazing having him so close behind you. He grabs your shower gel without asking, squirts a messy amount into his palm and lathers it over his chest with an exaggerated moan. "Damn, you're right. This stuff smells so good. Almost like you."

You laugh despite yourself, slapping foam onto his arm. "You're such an idiot."

"An idiot who smells amazing now" he fires back, niping at your shoulder just to hear you gasp. He steps away and rubs the gel over your arms with a playful grin. "Relax, I'm just making sure you're clean. You were sweaty as fuck earlier."

Your face heats..Why the hell is he like this?! You swat at him with a wet hand but he catches your wrist easily, twisting it to make you face him and tug you closer. Water drips from his lashes as he smirks down at you. The close proximity makes your stomach flutter .

"You're such an idiot Jungkook."

"Yeah, but you like it." he says smugly while his hands skim down your sides.

The words hang heavy between you - "Yeah, but you like it."

He says it so casually, like it's a joke but your stomach knots. Because he's right. You do like it, you like him. And that's the worst part. As much as you tell yourself that you're stupid to like him, you can't help it. Before you can roll your eyes or fire back, his mouth is already on yours for a wet and messy kiss. The sound of the water pattering around you fills the silence, but all you hear is the wet sounds of his lips and the soft grunt he lets out as he drags you against him.

"Mmh..." he hums against your mouth. "knew it. You can't get enough of me."

Your chest squeezes. He means it like cocky banter, another notch to huge his ego . Every time he kisses you like he owns you, it makes you fall harder for him.You try to push a laugh past the lump in your throat but it comes out too soft." You're so full of yourself."

"Maybe." His tongue teases yours before he pulls back far enough to look at you. His hand slides from your side to the small of your back. "But you're still here, letting me prove my point."

Your heart pounds painfully. He doesn't see the way your walls are crumbling, the way your crush is spilling over into something much bigger than you want to admit . To him, you're just his good little distraction. The virgin he corrupted. The body he can't get enough of because you're untouched compared to all his other girls. He doesn't know you lie awake after he leaves, wishing you meant more to him.

But you appreciate what you have with him. So you let him kiss you hard and tease you between them. You're still giggling when his lips chase yours, teasing pecks that never quite let you breathe. Every time you try to turn your head away, Jungkook finds your lips again, grinning like he's got all the time in the world to make you melt.

His teeth graze your bottom lip playfully, when- Knock. Knock. Knock.

Both of you freeze. Another rap against the door is heard but muffled through the sounds of the water.

"Fuck," Jungkook mutters, his forehead drops to yours with a groan. "Already?"

You burst into soft laughter, pushing at his chest softly. Oh, does it feel good to have your hands there. "That's your fault. You ordered it."

He steps back with a crooked grin, running a hand over his wet hair before grabbing a towel off the rack. He doesn't bother drying himself properly, he just slings it low around his hips, the water is still dripping down his chest.

"Should I be decent or should I give the guy a free show?" he wiggles his eyebrows flirtatiously.

You roll your eyes but your lips twitch. When the door clicks shut behind him, you turn back to rinse the rest of the soap from your body.

The knock echoes again, followed by the sound of Jungkook's voice at the door as he talks to the delivery guy. You picture him standing there half-naked, with a loose towel around him and his tattoos on full display. You cringe at the thought of how the poor delivery guy must be trying not to stare. As you let the water rinse mind wanders to how all this started in the first place...

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

Extremely long story - short : It was Halloween and you weren't planning on doing much except reading a romantic book or maybe watching a mildly scary movie . But, to your dismay, Sophia had decided to "save you". She was against you spending Halloween in the isolated confinement of your tiny apartment so she told you she's taking you to your first real party.

Sophia had this wild glint in her eyes when she threw open her closet doors, like she was somep

kind of stylist sent to rescue you from a lifetime of sweatpants and oversized hoodies.

"You're not going to this party dressed like a librarian babe." she announced as her hands rifled through her clothes.

You scowled from the bed with your arms crossed over your chest. "What's wrong with being a librarian? Librarians are cool."

Sophia shot you a look. "We're not aiming for cool. We're aiming for sexy. It's Halloween. You can't waste it."

Before you could protest, she tossed a bundle of fabric at you. When it landed in your lap, your eyes widened.

It was a short, black satin slip dress with thin spaghetti straps, a neckline that was low enough to show clevage and the hemline was barely mid-thigh.

"I cannot wear this." You shook your head furiously.

"You will wear it," Sophia countered, grinning like a pretty demon. "We'll add a little Halloween twist. Fishnet tights, maybe a choker... oooh. And I've got these black lace gloves that'll make you look like a goth goddess."

"I don't even own heels to go with this. Not that I can wear them anyways..." you muttered, hoping that'd put an end to her scheming.

"Good thing I planned ahead." Sophia pulled out a pair of chunky black platform boots from her shoe section. "Cute, comfortable, and badass. No excuses."

By the time she was done accessorizing you, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror.

She even dusted your eyelids with glittery shadow and painted your lips a daring shade of deep berry red.

"I look... hot." you admitted reluctantly, tugging at the hem of the dress.

"You look like a sexy, slutty vampire," Sophia corrected proudly, looping an arm around your shoulders. "Which is exactly what we were going for."

"I thought I was just going as a college student forced against her will. "you muttered.

She rolled her eyes, dragging you toward the door." Trust me, Y/N. Tonight? You're gonna thank me."

The moment you step into the party, you almost contemplate turning around and leaving. The music's so loud it rattles your chest. Lights flash in dizzying patterns, bouncing off mirrored surfaces and the glitter of costumes has you feeling light-headed. People are laughing, dancing and spilling drinks all over the place. You clutch Sophia's hand tightly, trying to keep up with her as she drags you past a crowd of skeletons, witches and someone inexplicably dressed as a giant slice of pizza.

"You have to loosen up, babe," She shouts over the bass and shoves two tiny shot glasses into your hand. "Drink for courage."

You swallow hard, grimacing as the bitter liquid burns down your throat. "I feel... weird."

"Exactly! Now you're ready to mingle." She grins wickedly, her eyes sparkling under the strobe lights.

A few more shots later, your muscles feel lighter, your nerves soften and your cheeks are flushed with heat. You laugh way louder than you normally would, swaying slightly to the music. Sophia beams proudly at you, glad that you seem to be letting loose for once.

For a long while, it's fun. You actually feel like you're part of the crowd instead of some invisible nerd. You and Sophia dance between groups of people and let the music guide you. But the crowd is a bit wild and soon Sophia disappears into a cluster of people, leaving you alone near the edge of the dance floor.

That's when a tall, super tipsy guy comes up to you with a drunk grin. "Hey you. Wanna dance?" he slurs. Before you can reject his offer, he grabs your wrist.

"No, I... I don't really-" you stammer. Your heart's racing and you try to pull away but he's insistent.

"Come on, just one dance!"

Panic surges through you. You don't like this, not one bit. The guy comes closer to you and you smell the cheap alcohol he's been drinking. Before the drunk guy does anything else, a voice stop him.

"Leave her alone."

Your head snaps toward the voice and youur heart stops. It's him Jungkook. The campus's heartthrob. The one who could snap his fingers and have anyone he wanted (and usually did) . He's the kind of guy whispered about in the camous hallways and the guy rumors cling to. Everyone knows he's slept with half the girls on campus... even a few lecturers if the gossip is true. You shouldn't even look at him and yet you've had the fattest crush on him for ages now.

He walks over slowly, like he already knows the drunk guy's going to be intimidated by him. His outfit makes your throat go dry. He's wearing black ripped jeans, combat boots, a fitted black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms showing off his tattoos and a velvet blazer. There's streak of fake blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Your grip finally slips free when the drunk guy's gaze falters under Jungkook's. He stumbles back a step but still lingers. His drunken ego too puffed up to let go completely.

"I said leave. Her. Alone."

This time the guy actually listens. He throws his hands up in a sloppy gesture of surrender and disappears into the crowd of sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

You're left standing there, your heart racing for entirely different reasons now. Jungkook's eyes shift to you.

"You okay?" he asks.

You nod too quickly, the words stuck in your throat. Your hands are clammy and your pulse won't settle...

· · ୨୧ · ·

You can't tell if Jungkook's sticking with you because he thinks you're cool to hang out with or because he's plotting to get you into bed tonight. It's probably the second option. Most definitely.

He's never really spoken to you before now. You're not even sure he knew your name before tonight. But here you are perched on the barstool beside him. The party rages behind you. Jungkook offered to by you and drink and you said you'd take a sprite since you're already feeling a bit tipsy.

He slides the glass toward you with his tattooed hand.

"Sprite, right?" His lips curl into that cocky smirk if his but it's softened by the glint of his lip ring when it catches the light.

"Thanks." you mumble, trying to sound casual but your voice betrays you, it's even softer than usual. His eyes flick over you slowly.

"You look good tonight."

Your brain short-circuits. A compliment from him? This cannot be real life. Before you can even process it properly, his hand lands on the edge of your chair and pulls you closer to him. Your knees bump into his now and your pulse spikes fast. God, you're so nervous...

Jungkook leans in a little, his head is tilted as if he's studying you. His cologne isn't strong but still the smell of him intoxicates you. It mixes with the faint trace of mint on his breath, brushing over your cheek when he speaks again.

"You nervous?" he asks, his voice is a bit rough. His eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth for the quickest second.

You swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of the heat radiating off him. Of how much space he takes up. Of how close his lips are or how the glint of his piercings makes you wonder what it'd feel like against your skin. *shit*

And maybe it's the alcohol loosening your edges as Sophia said it would but your eyes betray you. They flick down to his mouth before shooting back up.

He notices and your stomach twists. You've imagined it before, many times actually. What it would be like to give in to him. To let him take you against a wall or let him bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you the way everyone whispers he can.

And right now, with him this close, staring at you like he's already undressing you in his head? You don't feel like being the girl who's too scared to be risky. You don't want to be the sweet virgin who's never done anything reckless...

· · ୨୧ · ·

You stare down at yours and Jungkook's intertwined hands, as he leads you up the narrow staircase to one of the empty rooms. Your heart is practically in your ass. *You actually agreed to this? *

Your legs feel like jelly with every step. You, the campus nobody/invisible nerd - You're following *Jeon Jungkook* to an empty room at a party? You feel like some heroine from one of those cliché love stories you're always reading. Your heart's about to rip out of your chest

When you get to one of the rooms, he pushes open the door and closes it behind you. The loud music is muffled through the door now. The moment the door clicks shut, you don't even have time to overthink because his soft lips are already on yours. His mouth tastes like mint and vodka. His lip ring drags across your bottom lip, in a way that makes your toes curl. You gasp when his tongue roughly pushes past your lips. Your hands are awkwardly at your sides at first until he grabs your wrists and drags the around his neck.

"Relax." He mutters against your lips.

Your back hits the wall as he presses closer to you so that you feel his hard chest against yours. One of his hands slide up you thigh, pushing your dress higher while the others goes to back to pull the dresses zipper down. You gasp into the kiss, gripping his shoulders. When he pulls away for second, his eyes are dark. His tattoos peek from the cuff of his shirt as he shrugs off his blazer. He's tugging his shirt over his head and that's when your brain just goes blank.

Of course you knew he was fit. Everyone gossiped about it. But seeing him like this in such close proximity is something else completely. He's so hot and it makes your knees weak.

"You like what you see?"

Before you can even respond, he's kissing you again, his tongue explores you greedily. Your mind goes blank, every rational thought fleeing the moment his hands slide over your waist and down to your ass. Your knees wobble and your breath hitches. He gives you a small rough yet playful shove, sending you tumbling backward until the edge of the bed presses against your legs with a squeak from you that seems way too loud.

He hovers over you, so that you're laying back against the bed. His chest is pressed against yours , he's basically caging you in as he grinds his hips against yours. The friction makes your body shiver. Heat pooling at your core and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders.

His kisses are sloppy and perfect. They pull little gasps and whimpers from you. Your head falls back onto the pillows as hjs lips and teeth devour you.

"Oh ... Jungkook." you moan. Your voice is shaky, making him grin against your mouth. His hands slip further down to cup your ass, you arch into him. You're louder now, every one of your whimpers and moans spill out freely. You're almost embarrassed by how vocal you're being but you can't care. You're completely lost in him to care about anything else.

He pulls back for a little breath. Your chest heaves and your skin tingles. You heart is hammering against your chest. You unconsciously bite your lip harshly when he unbuckles his belt and the metallic click echoes in the room.

But you stop him. Jungkook freezes mid-motion. He looks like he's in a daze as he looks down at you under him. His eyes flicker between both of yours, confused as to why you stopped him.

"What?" he asks.

You muster up the courage and tell him what's been worrying you. "I... I'm a virgin."

He blinks and his jaw tightens slightly. It's as if he can't compute what he just heard. His eyes trace your body and something in him falters.

"You... you're serious?" he asks, looking at you as if you've just spoken a foreign language . "You... you've never...?"

You nod, feeling the tiniest flicker of nervousness in your stomach. "I've never had sex with anyone... But I want to with you."

He doesn't move for a while, hjust studies you like he's figuring our whether you're bluffing or lying. He exhales and runs a hand through his hair with a mixture of disbelief, curiosity and desire?

"Shit..." he mutters under his breath.

His fingers still hover near your hips. He's recalculating, trying to figure out what to do now. For the first time, he's considering bending his own rules.

"Damn..." he mutters, almost to himself. "You're really a virgin?"

You nod again, chest rises and falls. He huffs out a little laugh, still looking at you like he's contemplating .

"Fuck. I don't do virgins. Too complicated." He runs a hand down his face then lets it drop to your thigh. His fingers squeeze hard enough to make you gasp softly.

"But... you're sitting here telling me you want this. You sure about that?" His eyes are locked onto yours.

"Yes." It comes out almost breathless but there's no hesitation.

His eyes narrow just slightly, like he's making sure you're certain.

"If I do this, I can't promise I'll be gentle. I don't know how to be gentle. I'm not gentle with anyone"

Your stomach flips but your voice is steady. "I don't care."

Something flickers in his eyes. "Alright then..."

He leans in and sloppily kisses you again with hus tongue pushing past your lips until you're pleasantly moaning against his mouth. He shifts, now sitting back against the headboard with his legs spread wide. He tugs you up into his lap with ease.

"C'mere." he mutters.

Your knees sink into the mattress on either side of his thighs. You're straddling him now, your palms find his hard chest for balance. .

"Take this off." He tugs at the straps of your dress. His eyes rake over you as you pull the dress over your head and off so you're just left in your bra andstockings.

"Fuck..." He growls. His hands carress your bare sides with his large palms . "All this under those baggy-ass hoodies?" The laugh that comes out of his is low and rough laced with disbelief ."You've been hiding."

Heat floods your face but you hold his gaze with your heart thudding. Yeah this is definitely not real life or maybe you're just dreaming again...

He leans forward, nose brushing your jaw. "Ever been touched before?"

You swallow hard. "No."

He pulls back just enough to look at you. "So you're clean and untouched..." His thumb drags slowly along your inner thigh. "Guess I'm the first then."

Soon his mouth is on your neck, his lips are wet and warm, he's sucking at the skin just below your ear making you whimper. He kisses lower, down your collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly as his hands slide down to grab your ass and pull you tighter against him.

You can feel him hard as rock beneath you, even through the fabric of his pants. He hooks his thumbs into his waistband of pants. He politely asks you to get up for a second so he can pull his pants down. He's in nothing but his boxers while you sit back on his lap. He rolls his hip upwards so his cock meets your centre through his boxers and you have to bite your lip again to prevent the filthiest moan from leaving you.

You clutch at his shoulders and his hands slide up your back. His fingertips trace over the band of your bra as he kisses everywhere his mouth can reach -Your throat, your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. His tongue flicks against your skin before he bites softly and sucks another mark into your neck.

"Jungkook..."

"Sound so damn pretty already," he mutters against your skin. His hips move again grinding you down onto him with a low groan. "Didn't think the campus nerd would be on top of me like this."

You shudder at his words but your hips rock against his on instinct.

"Yeah... just like that Y/N."

Your hands grip his shoulders, hips rolling against him in a perfect rhythm. Tiny whimpers escape your lips and you can't help the soft, desperate moans that spill straight into his ear. You even bite down lightly, a teasing little nip that makes him hiss.

"Shit..." Jungkook mutters lowly. His hands clutch your hips, trying to steady your frantic movements but truthfully he doesn't want to stop. He wants to tell you to slow down but he can't. You feel so good grinding against his cock. He wants to be inside you right now.

"You're ... uh - Y/N... "he groans, teeth grazing your shoulder. "Fuck..."

The second he tries to speak again, you grind against him harder. Yiur hips rocking against his lap with a rhythm that isn't even instinct, it's pure need(well considering the fact that you're ovulating) .

His hands roam freely now, grabbing the soft flesh of your ass and cupping your breasts over the bra urgently. Even through the thin fabric of his boxers, the friction makes him shiver.

"Why the fuck does this feel so good?" he murmurs to himself.

He swallows hard. The contact, the heat and the smell of you is too much and too intense. He had fucked countless girls but he's never been this aroused Every one of your whimpers and moans in his ears make his cock throb even more beneath you.

"You're ... not supposed to feel this good. "he rasps, his voice breaks slightly as he rolls his hips up again, grinding into your center with a desperate rhythm that matches yours.

You whine into his ear, tugging at his soft hair and for a moment, all logic leaves the room.

Your own movements are messy and greedy. You're so desperate to feel him. For the first time, Jungkook doesn't try to correct someone. He doesn't try to control you or tell you what to do, he just lets you take control.

"Fuck... baby..." his teeth graze your earlobe.

He skillfully unhooks your bra with one hand. His eyes widen just slightly for a moment, because... damn. You're perfect.

He can't stop himself. He leans down and starts sucking your breasts greedily. The taste of your skin mingled with the faint trace of your shower makes him groan low in his throat.

Your hips don't stop. You keep grinding on him sloppily. Every movement of yours sends jolts of pleasure through him and he bites down lightly on your skin, moaning against you.

He suddenly freezes and his eyes go wide. What the hell...? His chest is heaves, pulse races and before he can even process it, a strangled groan escapes him. His release spills into his boxers. *Shit*, he came.

He pulls back slightly disbelief written all over his face. "No... no way..." he mutters. You stop grinding against him when you feel like the sudden wetness too. He stares down wet boxers, his mind is racing. *How the hell did he come just by you grinding on him?* Jungkook has always prided himself on control. Girls never get this far, this fast.

His pride is bruised but not enough to stop him. Not when you're still clinging to him. Not when you're so deliciously tempting. And although he won't admit it out loud, there's a blush in his ears and a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. Somehow, the nerdy, quiet girl he barely thought about before - The same one he'd just intended to fuck for fun has made him come in his boxers...

Jungkook lets out a shaky laugh, dragging a hand down his face like he can't believe what just happened. But the next second, his expression hardens, lust simmering in his dark eyes as they lock onto you.

"Get up," he says. He gives your thigh a firm tap and when you blink at him in confusion, he clarifies, "On your hands and knees. In front of me."

Your stomach twists with nerves and your body freezes for a second. On fours? You hesitate, chewing on your lip, your heart hammering at the thought. He's going to see everything. You're going to be laid out and vulnerable right in front of him.

"Come on," Jungkook urges, more impatient now. "Don't get shy on me now."

Your legs feel like jelly as you move hesitantly. You crawl forward, your palms press into the mattress. Your ass in the air as you finally position yourself the way he told you to. You're so nervous, your limbs tremble a bit.

Biting your lip, you risk a glance back and your heart almost stops. Jungkook's sitting back, his toned stomach flexing as he tears open a foil packet with his teeth, pulling out a condom. The sight of him, broad shoulders tense as he rolls the condom down over himself with practiced ease makes your pulse race even faster. When he catches you looking, his lips curve into a slow smirk. He strokes himself lazily, making sure you see every movement.

"Like what you see, baby?" his is voice deep and teasing.

You snap your head forward again, mortified. You bury your face in your hands for a second. But you can still feel his eyes on you, devouring the view of your trembling body on display just for him.

You flinch when you feel the cool brush of his fingers against the back of your thigh, tugging at your stockings. Slowly he peels the thin fabric down over your ass, past your knees, until it pools at your knees. Next goes your underwear and your whole body seizes with embarrassment when the air hits you. You know you're soaked, you can feel it.

"Fuck," Jungkook breathes out. He spreads you with two fingers and is shamelessly staring at you. "You're dripping. Didn't think the nerd had it in her."

Heat floods your face but before you can even think of a reply, his thumb is pressing against your folds. You jolt, your knuckles tighten in the sheets as a moan spills out of you without your permission. He chuckles behind you, clearly enjoying how reactive you are.

"Sensitive, huh?" He drags his thumb slowly over your clit, not giving you a break. "Gonna make this nice and easy for you."

You feel one of his thick fingers push into you and your whole body clenches. The stretch makes your toes curl but it's not unbearable. He starts pumping his finger inside of you. When your breathy moans start filling the room, he adds another.

"Shit." you gasp, your arms trembling as you brace yourself.

"That's it. Take it." Jungkook mutters, his tone a mix of command and approval. His fingers curl, hitting something inside you that makes your vision blur for a second. Your moans get louder and higher pitched. Your hips twitching back against him like your body wants more even if your brain is still struggling to process everything.

And then he adds a third.

"Jungkook-!" you cry out with your eyes squeezing shut. The burn makes you gasp, your thighs tremble but his free hand presses down on your lower back to steady you.

"Relax," he says, his voice is calmer now and surprisingly soft even as his fingers stretch you open. "You can take it. You're tighter than I thought, but fuck, you're gonna be fine."

Your breath stutters as he works you open, the wet squelch of his fingers filling the silence between your whimpers. Every time you think you've adjusted, he twists them, making your legs quake beneath you.

Behind you, you hear him let out a low groan. "You feel so damn good and I'm not even inside you yet."

His fingers slip out of you slowly, leaving you clenching around nothing. You're still trembling from the stretch he forced you to take.

The mattress dips as he shifts closer. One of his hands spreads you open again. The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and the pressure alone makes you gasp.

"Shit... you're really so tight. " he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His tone is hushed, like he isn't sure if he should be talking or just focusing.

Then he pushes in slowly and your breath catches. The sting burns immediately, stretching you in a way his fingers couldn't fully prepare you for. Your arms buckle but his hand is there firmly on your hip to ground you.

"Easy," Jungkook mutters, his voice is huskier than you've ever heard. "Don't run from me. Just... breathe."

You whimper, your face pressed into the pillow as your eyes water a little. Every inch he sinks in pulls another sound from you. He slowly eases in inch by inch. His chest rises and falls fast like he's fighting to stay in control and not just start pounding into you.

"Fuck, Y/N." he groans and there's almost disbelief in his tone.

Your eyes sting, both from the stretch and from how overwhelming it all feels. His hand rubs over your lower back soothingly as if he knows you're in pain before tightening on your hip again.

"Almost there," he rasps, pushing the last of the way in until his hips are flush with your ass. His forehead drops between his shoulder blades, his breath hot against your skin. "Goddamn... you took me all."

The ache throbs deep inside you, but beneath it there's this unbearable fullness that makes your toes curl against the sheets.

He stays buried in you for a moment with his chest heaving like he's trying to get his bearings. When he finally pulls his hips back, just a little, your whole body trembles.

You gasp and the sound is high and shaky. "Jungkook-oh-"

He pushes back in slowly, groaning low from the way your walls cling to him. "Damn... so fucking tight." he mutters, his voice is strained, his teeth are clenched like it's almost too much for him.

His pace is careful at first, small thrusts that let you stretch around him properly. He rolls his hips so that you're whimpering into the sheets. Your hands grip the blanket so hard your knuckles ache. Your moans spill out uncontrollably, coming out inpretty little sounds that fill the room over the creak of the bed.

"That's it," he murmurs with something softer in his voice despite the grit in it. "Keep making those sounds... fuck, you don't even know what you're doing to me."

Your thighs quiver, the fullness of him is so overwhelming since he's so big inside you. As he moves slowly into you, it starts to burn less. The slight pain you were feeling a while ago is replaced with a pleasant feeling that has you arching your back and pushing into him without meaning to. A low chuckle slips from his throat as his hand grabs your hip tighter.

"You like that? Hm?" He rolls his hips in deeper, getting another helpless moan from your lips. "Good girl."

Your breath hitches at the praise and you can't stop the sounds leaving you. Every time he pulls out and slides back in, a soft cry leaves your throat,

He leans down so that his chest pressed to your back. His lips brush your ear as he thrusts into you again. His minty breath fans over your skin.

"You moan so pretty. Didn't think you'd sound like this."

Your body clenches around him on its own and his groan vibrates against your ear.

"Fuck... you're gonna ruin me before I even get to fuck you properly." he says, almost like he's scolding himself. He doesn't speed up yet, he keeps that rhythm, letting you adjust you adjust to him before he can start fucking you the way he wants. To you, it's too much and not enough at the same time.

"Please... Jungkook... harder..." you whimper, your voice trembling and high pitched. He freezes for half a second at the raw desperation in your tone.

"You want me to fuck you harder, huh?" he growls, leaning close so his chest presses against your back and his breath fans over your ear.

"Yes... please... don't stop..."

That seems to be all he needs. He pulls back just enough to get a proper angle then slams into you harder than before. The bed creaks under the force, your knees shake as you gasp and whimper loudly. Every thrust, he goes deeper inside you. He fills and stretches you perfectly. He keeps on hitting that sweet spot inside of you that has your voice rising even higher.

"You feel so good," he mutters, rolling his hips into you. "Tighter than I imagined... and you... you sound so pretty when you beg me"

His hands grip your hips tightly and he's pounding into you now. The feeling of him and the sounds leaving , makes your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"Ah! Jungkook... Oh. Yes-ah!"

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

Well, you don't remember much of what happened after that. You were a bit tipsy and he fucked your brains out properly on that night too. You just remember waking up in your bedroom the next morning with your body aching in the best ways possible.

You couldn't believe that you lost your virginity to him. You're not complaining though... He certainly made your first time unforgettable.

You thought it would just be a one night stand between you two, because that's how Jungkook was. He barely had sex with the same girl twice. The only time he did was if he had forgotten her face - which he did forget sometimes since he's been active with so many girls.

You didn't expect him to show up knocking at your door one Saturday morning :

· · ୨୧ · ·

Your hair's a mess and you're in a stretched out T-shirt with faded cartoon prints and shorts that don't even match. You weren't expecting company, especially not his.

So when you tug the door open, rubbing sleep from your eyes and see Jungkook leaning against your doorframe, your heart quite literally stops.

"Morning." he says like it's the most normal thing in the world. His grey sweatpants hang low on his hips and a plain white tee is stretched across his chest and arms in a way that shouldn't be legal.

You blink. "...What the hell?" It comes out half-whisper, half-gasp. "How do you even know where's my dorm?"

He shrugs, unfazed. "Mine's a few blocks down and I've seen you walking this way after classes." He tilts his head, smirking. "Didn't think I was the stalker type, did you?"

Your throat goes dry. "What are you doing here, Jungkook?" You pause, words tumbling uselessly. "You weren't supposed to come back."

Jungkook chuckles before shoving his hands into his pockets. "Wasn't supposed to?" He steps closer, enough that the smell of his cologne drifts toward you. "What? You think I fucked you and forgot your face already?"

Heat shoots straight to your cheeks and you grip the edge of the door tighter. "I just... I thought it was a one-time thing. Since that's what you do..."

For a second, his eyes flick down your body, lingering on your oversized T-shirt *Oh shit, you're not even wearing a bra*. The corner of his mouth twitches. "Could've been but..." His gaze meets yours again. "I was curious."

Your stomach knots. "Curious?"

"Yeah." He lazily leans against your doorframe. "You were tighter than anyone I've ever had. And you're hot as fuck yet you hide it under-" his eyes flick down at your baggy clothes again- "this?"

You cross your arms over yourself. Gosh he's making you nervous. "It's just a T-shirt."

"Mhm." He smirks. "Cute, though. Very you."

Your heart's beating way too fast. You don't know whether to slam the door in his face, faint or invite him in. You're still standing frozen in the doorway with your arms wrapped across your chest like flimsy protection. Jungkook tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, like he's amused by your nervousness.

"You know," he starts. "You sounded like you really enjoyed yourself that night."

Your stomach drops. "Jungkook-"

"You were loud," he cuts in, smirking. "Real loud. Pretty little moans in my ear, begging me to go harder, deeper... Don't act like you don't remember."

Your face burns so hot you're surprised you don't just combust right there. You want to deny it, to blame it on being tipsy or to brush it off but flashes of that night flood back :

His mouth on your skin, his hand on your throat and the way your own voice cracked when he made you orgasm so many times.

He notices the way you bite your lip. "And don't think I forgot how many times you came either." He pauses, like he's debating something, then adds, "I've never came so many times in one night either."

You blink at him stunned. Jungkook doesn't look embarrassed but there's a certain way his jaw tightens, almost like he regrets saying too much. Before you can speak, he straightens.

"Look. I'm not here to hold your hand or play boyfriend. That's not me." He shrugs. "But... if you want to keep hooking up, I'm down. You let me know. I'll make time for you."

Your lips part in shock and he steps closer. Close enough that you have to tilt your head up to look at him.

"And if you do say yes, I'll be gentle with you." His eyes flick down to your lips, then back to your eyes. "That night... you were still a virgin but you took me so well... I want more of that."

Your heart hammers against your ribs. This is Jeon Jungkook you're dealing with. The college's man whore. The worst possible person to have a crush on and yet you do. And now you're probably soul-tied to him since he took your innocence.

You think about how he had been holding your hips so tightly, how he had been pounding into you, how he had let you ride him while guiding your movements that night. Yeah, you definitely wanted to experience that again and again. So you agreed to his simple deal. Nothing complicated. Just sex, whenever either of you wanted.

Of course, you had your ginormous crush on him but you buried it under the pretense of just being his hookup.

You thought maybe he would stop hooking up with other girls now that he had you. But you couldn't have been more wrong. Sometimes you'd see him with girls on different days. He'd be up against some random girl in the hallway, with his tongue down her throat. Other times you'd hear whispers about him busy in someone's dorm.

It stung but you told yourself you couldn't expect him to change just because you had become his frequent fuck.

And he was frequent. He made sure to be with you at least four times a week, sometimes more if neither of you were busy.

It wasn't just the usual quickies either. He took you everywhere. In the backseat of his car, your tiny dorm desk and even the showers in the gym locker rooms late at night. He liked to watch you squirm when he fucked you, somewhere you both could get caught.

Christmas was the only time you said no. He had you pinned to your bed, telling you how pretty you'd look bouncing on his cock by the Christmas tree lights. He tried to tug your panties down, but you pushed him off. You told him Christmas was special to you and that you didn't want to be a sinner on that day. He'd rolled his eyes but respected your decision. He also ended up staying over that night to spend it with you.

The second the calendar went

from New Year's Eve into New Year's Day, he had you bent over, fucking you through the countdown. Fireworks boomed outside while his hips slammed into you, his voice was low against your ear, licking your earlobe.

"Start the year off right, baby... with me buried in this tight pussy." He didn't let up until you were crying his name into the sheets.

It became a routine after that, Jungkook fucking you like it was his favourite pastime. He whispered things that stuck in your head even after he left.

"No one else gets this pussy. Just me." or "You have no idea how lucky I am... Fuck, no one feels this good but you."

And then came Valentine's Day. He had showed up with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of roses, smirking like he was making fun of the holiday. But he still handed them to you and muttered. "Don't say I never got you shit.

And that night was the first time he went down on you. Jungkook had sworn he didn't eat pussy because he was only with girls for his own pleasure. But that night he had your thighs thrown over his shoulders and his tongue buried between your legs. You were half-convinced he was just doing it to prove something but the way he groaned against you said otherwise.

"Taste so fucking good... should've been doing this from the start."

You had tugged on his hair, moaning louder than you ever had and he grinned against your heat before making you come hard enough that your legs shook.

And that was also the first time you went raw with him. He'd whispered against your neck as he slid into you bare, both of you moaning together at how much better it felt. "Fuck... you're perfect like this. Can't believe I'm the only one who gets you like this."

You should've hated how easily you gave in to him. But every single time he had been intimate with you and whispered how much he loved being inside you, it felt impossible to stop this whole thing. The physical intimacy had in time made you fall harder for him and eventually you realised that you were in love with him...

· · ୨୧ · ·

So here you are now slipping into your silky pajamas after your shower with him. Your hair is damp and clinging to your neck. You're exhausted, your eyes are already drooping as you pad to your bedroom.

After paying the pizza delivery guy, half-naked and talking to him about God knows what, Jungkook is bent over his duffel bag that he somehow stashed in your closet months ago. He pulls out a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers and tosses his towel onto the chair without much thought.

You climb onto your bed, pulling your knees up under the blanket, watching him change and admiring his perfect body. He catches you staring and raises an eyebrow with a smug look on his face. You playfully roll your eyes at him and sink further into the comfort of your pillows.

When he's done, he grabs the pizza box and sets it on the mattress. He slides in the bed next to you and pulls you against his warm chest without asking.

"Hey," he murmurs before pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips still a little cool from the shower. "Don't crash on me yet."

You let out a groggy little hum, your body melts into his hold anyway. He kisses you again, this time it's a soft peck to your lips, like he's trying to keep you awake.

"Come on, sleepyhead. Food's here. You need to eat before you pass out."

Your nose scrunches at his half bossy and half sweet tone but you can't fight the small smile forming at your lips.

"You're so annoying..." you mumble, your voice is muffled against his chest.

"Annoying but right." He nudges your cheek gently, coaxing you upright. "We're gonna eat, then put on a movie, yeah? You can fall asleep on me after, I'll allow it."

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself. "Allow it?"

"Mm." He grins, finally sliding the box open and offering you a slice. "My official permission. But only after pizza."

You take it and your fingers brush his. You sigh before biting into it. The cheese stretches, since he ordered extra cheese, it tastes so good. He watches you take the first bite with way too much satisfaction, then he leans back against the headboard with his own slice, balancing the box on his lap.

The room is quiet except for the faint sound of chewing and the hum of your fan. He keeps one arm draped around your shoulders the entire time, absentmindedly rubbing your arm with his thumb as though holding you there is second nature.

"You're warm." you mumble, leaning into him more.

"Yeah?" His lips twitch, brushing the top of your damp hair.

You hum in response, your half lidded eyes are on the slice in your hand as you take the last bite.

Jungkook shifts beside you, reaching for your laptop on the nightstand with his free hand, careful not to jostle you off his chest. He props it up on his knees and balances it so he can look for a movie.

"What do you even watch when I'm not here?" he asks while scrolling through your Netflix screen.

You swallow, slouching further against him until your cheek rests on his shoulder. "Documentaries, romance and dramas. Stuff you'd fall asleep to in five minutes."

He snorts, the sound vibrating in his chest under your ear. "Well duh. They're boring." His thumb pauses on an action movie. "This."

"That's two hours long." you protest weakly, your voice is muffled against him.

He glances down at you. "So? You'll fall asleep halfway through anyway. Doesn't matter what I pick."

You elbow his side lightly, earning a playful grunt. He just laughs, pulling you even closer so you're basically half sprawled over him now, your legs are curled onto the bed beside his.

"Comfy?" he lowers his head to brush his lips against your hair again.

You hum, your hand absentmindedly rests on his stomach as you reach for another slice of pizza from the box.

The movie plays in the background but the two of you talk more than you actually watch. You tell him about the annoying group project you've been stuck with, about how the coffee machine on campus keeps eating your coins and about the stray cat you spotted outside the library that wouldn't stop following you. He listens, interjecting with jokes and the occasional grin. His thumb never leaves its slow, absentminded circles against your arm.

It's unfair how easy it feels with him. How you love being this close without sex being involved, how natural it feels to lean into his warmth. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend this is real. That he's yours and that this intimacy is something more than borrowed.

You know better. Jungkook doesn't do love. And no matter how much you try to bury it, you're falling deeper every day.

That night, as he carries the empty pizza box to the kitchen and you crawl under the sheets, you make a quiet decision. You're going to end this. Sure, you'll miss his touch, his kisses and the way he ruins you in bed... but you deserve more than a body he keeps returning to when it's convenient. You deserve someone who will love you and not just the way you moan for him.

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

You're sitting at the back of your advanced maths lecture, scribbling down notes when Jimin slides into the seat beside you. He's been doing that more often these past few weeks. He seeks you out, striking up conversation and making you laugh even in a subject that usually makes you want to cry.

"Hey," he says softly, nudging your elbow. "So... I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner with me sometime this weekend? Just us?"

You blink, surprised but the warm smile on his face makes your lips tug upward. Jimin is sweet and kind,you'd be crazy to reject his offer.

"Yeah,"you answer genuinely. "I'd like that."

His grin is wide and boyish, his almost all the way closed. You feel something flutter in your chest... He's so cute.

Later, you're walking through the hallway on your way to the library. You're still thinking about what you're going to wear and about how you'll tell Jungkook it's over soon. But your thoughts halt when you hear a voice ahead of you. Two girls are chatting by the vending machine, their whispers carrying louder than they think.

"Yeah, I told Jungkook to come to my dorm later," one of them giggles, twirling her hair. "He said he'd think about it, but you know him. He always shows up."

Your steps falter, a cold wave running down your spine. You duck your head, hurrying past before they notice you listening.

Of course he's still him and yet, the sting in your chest feels more painful than you expected.

· · ୨୧ · ·

It's Friday night and for once, your desk isn't buried in notes and textbooks. Instead, it's littered with makeup brushes, open compacts and pairs of earrings you can't decide on. You smooth down the silky dress you pulled from the back of your closet. The one that doesn't scream nerd or library rat. The one that makes you look like someone who deserves to be taken out and admired.

You barely recognize yourself in the mirror. Your hair's flat-ironed, your lips are a bit glossy and your lashes curled. You look...gorgeous.

You're touching up the corner of your eyeliner when a knock sounds at your door. You freeze, brows furrowing. You're not expecting anyone.

You pad over, your shoes clicking softly on the floor and when you open the door your stomach flips.

It's Jungkook. He's leaning against the doorframe. His eyes sweep over you, his gaze lingering from head to toe and he doesn't even try to hide it.

"Wow," he says, a slow smirk curving his on lips as he steps inside without waiting for your permission. "And here I was thinking you'd spend your Friday night in pajamas watching rom-coms or some shit. Where the fuck are you going dressed like that?"

Your pulse quickens. You shut the door behind him, annoyed at the way he makes himself at home. Annoyed at the heat crawling up your neck under his stare.

" I... I have plans." you say evenly, turning back to your vanity to grab your lipstick.

"Plans?" He echoes the word like it's foreign, his tone dipping into a challenge. He saunters closer, head tilting as he watches you carefully blot your lips. "With who?"

You meet his eyes in the mirror, gripping the tube tighter than necessary. "A date."

The word hangs heavy in the air.

For a second, Jungkook doesn't move. His smirk fades, jaw tightening slightly that you don't notice. Then he lets out a low laugh, like you just told him the funniest joke.

"A date?" He repeats, sliding his tongue across his lip ring as he steps closer until he's right behind you, towering over your shoulder. His reflection burns into yours. "With who?"

You swallow, refusing to shrink back. "Jimin. From my advanced maths lecture."

The silence that follows is deafening. His eyes darken in the mirror as scans your face like he's trying to read something written between your lashes. Then he scoffs, shaking his head.

"Math boy," he mutters under his breath. "Cute."

But the way his hand grips the back of your chair before he leans in close enough that you feel his breath against your ear, tells you that he doesn't find it cute at all.

"Cancel it," Jungkook says suddenly. He squeezes the back of your chair, his reflection still towering over you. "Stay in with me instead."

You blink at him in the mirror, caught off guard. "What?"

"Stay, he repeats, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Come on, babe. I'll let you ride me all night if that's what you want. You can set the pace, make me beg. Shit-I'll even eat your pussy, have you ride my face all night instead."

Your head whips around, eyes wide. "What?" you echo, almost choking on your own breath.

He leans closer, his grin widening like he's offering you the deal of the century. "You heard me. Anything. Whatever you want. Cancel on math boy and let's have fun, just you and me"

For a moment, you just stare at him. His words send heat shooting through your stomach. You'd be lying if you said they didn't but your brain quickly reminds you why you're even dressed up like this tonight. You grip your lipstick and steady your voice.

"You're only saying that because you were planning on having sex with me tonight anyway." you say without quite meeting his eyes.

He shrugs, lips quirking. "So what if I am? We both know you'd rather be under me than sitting through some boring dinner."

You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. "You really think I'd cancel my date just because you're offering sex? That's not how this works, Jungkook."

Something flickers across his face but you don't catch it. You're too busy gathering your bag and checking your phone.

"I'm going on my date," you say, slipping your heels on. "You can... come back tomorrow if you want."

The room falls quiet except for the rustle of your things. Jungkook stands there, watching you with his hands shoved into his hoodie pocket,his jaw is tight. You don't notice the way his smirk has completely slipped or the way his tongue presses hard against his cheek as if he's biting back words.

All you catch is the low chuckle he forces out as he steps back toward the door. "Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow."

You nod without looking at him, focusing on your compact mirror one last time. When the door finally clicks shut behind him, you exhale shakily, your heart still hammering from the way he'd looked at you.

· · ୨୧ · ·

The restaurant Jimin picked is cute, it's not too fancy and definitely not cheap, it's just right. You spot him at a corner table, already waiting with a shy smile and a button-up shirt that looks freshly ironed. He stands the second he sees you, pulling your chair out like a total gentleman.

"Wow," he says softly once you're seated. "You look... really beautiful tonight."

Heat creeps up your neck and you mumble a thanks while fussing with your napkin.

The conversation is easier than you expected. He asks about your classes, your thesis idea and your favourite authors. When you talk about math proofs or your love for certain problem-solving puzzles, his eyes light up instead of glazing over like most people's do. Jimin's similar to you so he gets it.

He really listens to what you have to say and when he tells you little stories about himself. About his family, his weird part-time job over summer and his love for classical music, you find yourself leaning in.

At some point, your food arrives, and he insists on letting you taste his dish before he digs in. "Trust me, it's better than yours," he teases, sliding the fork across the table. You roll your eyes but take the bite anyway, laughing when he grins like he's won something.

He's funny, considerate and soft in a way Jungkook never is. For the first time in a long time, you think maybe this is what you should want and yet... Every time Jimin smiles at you, you think of Jungkook's smirk. Every time Jimin's hand brushes yours across the table, you think of Jungkook's rough grip on your hips. When Jimin gently opens the door for you as you leave, you think of Jungkook shoving it open with his shoulder, dragging you inside with his mouth already on yours.

Jimin could be a perfect boyfriend one day. You know it. He's everything safe and everything sweet but your stupid heart still aches for Jungkook. For his chaos and the way he makes you feel like you're alive and burning all at once.

As Jimin walks you back to your dorm, talking about a new book he wants to lend you, you plaster on a smile and try not to think about the guy who'd shown up at your door earlier, offering you every filthy promise just to keep you by his side.

Once you and Jimin get back to your dorm, he doesn't rush to leave. He lingers by your door, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels a little nervously. His eyes flick from the floor to you, then back down.

"Tonight was... really nice" he says softly.

You smile, leaning against the doorframe. "It was."

There's a pause. His gaze lingers on your lip, and your stomach twists because you know what's coming.

You contemplate having fun with him. Maybe even getting intimate. Because why shouldn't you? Jungkook gets to live his life however the hell he wants, hooking up anyone and everyone. You've been tying yourself in knots over him, waiting around like you're some exception, when in reality you're not. You're just another girl to him.

So why can't you be just another girl for someone else?

You tilt your chin up just slightly and Jimin takes the hint. He steps closer, his hand brushing your arm as he leans in. He kisses you gently, it's so different from Jungkook's greedy kisses. Jimin tastes like sweetness and the wine he ordered at dinner. His lips move slowly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to. But you don't.

Your hand curls into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to kiss him back .

When you pull back, Jimin's cheeks are pink. He chuckles quietly, a little bashful.

"Sorry, I've been wanting to do that all night."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Don't apologize."

And as he leans in to kiss you again, you think... yeah, if Jungkook can treat sex like it's nothing, maybe you can too. Maybe you don't have to be tied down by your stupid feelings. Maybe you can let yourself feel wanted by someone else, even if it doesn't set you on fire the way Jungkook does. Even if deep down... you know you're just trying to prove to yourself that you can.

You stumble slightly as Jimin guides you down the tiny hallway in your dormitory to your bedroom. His hands steady your hips but he hasn't broken the kiss. His plum lips are so soft and sweet.

When you finally tumble onto the bed, his body is on top of yours. You let yourself grind lightly against him,your hips rolling against his. He feels good, enough to make you whimper softly. You bite your lip as you realize how much you want... more. You know that your actions are fueled by your petty vengeance but well, Jimin does look and feel good. And maybe Jungkook has turned you into some sex addict.

Jimin's eyes find yours and he looks a bit nervous. His hands slide up and down your sides, caressing you.

"Hey... I don't wanna go all the way tonight," he whispers politely and almost apologetic. "I want to take it slow."

A small groan escapes you. You knew this might happen but you nod, trying to hide the disappointment curling in your chest.

"Yeah... yeah, that's fine, I understand."

He notices your slight disappointment immediately as your shoulders slump slightly and a small pout forms on your lips. Jimin swallows and smiles gently.

"Okay," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But I can do this...."

He leans down. His lips move along your jawline, nipping gently at your neck.

Your hands grab his soft blonde-dyed hair, tugging him closer as he trails kisses lower, stopping at the curve of your shoulder and brushing over your chest. You feel your pulse spike and your breath hitching in anticipation. He moves lower, his lips finally tracing over your stomach to kiss you there.

He pushes your dress up to your stomach before looking at you as if asking if you're still okay with this,to which you nod.

When he pulls your panties down, his mouth finds you. You arch off the bed a little and let out a little whimper as he finds the wetness of you that's pooled there from your excitement. He starts exploring you and you can't help but think that he must be experienced too since he just started yet he's making it feel so good.

He hums softly. It's a low and approving sound that makes your stomach flutter. His tongue teases your folds, gently licking along your clit. Your hips rock against him without thinking, trying to chase the pressure and friction. Your hands clutch his hair and shoulders, holding on as his mouth works, sending tiny sparks of pleasure through you.

"Jun-Jimin..." you moan, voice shaky, trying to tell him how good it feels.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. Your legs spread naturally, giving him all the access he needs. It's not really comparitive to Jungkook's eating skills (which he developed from eating you out only). But it's sweet and feels good.

Your moans are soft but there, if it was Jungkook in Jimin's position you'd probably be screaming. You bite your lip and grind lightly again. He groans against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine.

When he finally pulls back, he's breathless. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. He smiles down at you, brushing wet hair from your damp face.

"You okay?" he asks softly, concern flickering across his handsome features.

"Yeah... yeah, that was... really good."

· · ୨୧ · ·

You just got out of a warm shower and wrap a towel around yourself before changing into cute, silky pajamas. It's Saturday today and you're not going anywhere. You just want to be comfortable and maybe read a book or something.

You check your phone and your heart nearly stops. There's so many messages, voice notes and missed calls all from Jungkook :

"What are you doing with him?"

"Answer me now you nerd."

"You're so annoying ."

"I'm going to punish you for the this."

You want to cringe at the last message you just read but a loud knock on the front door startles you.

"Open up Y/N."

It's Jungkook voice and he sounds irritated. You open the door for him. He steps inside before you can even think about what to say. His gaze casually flickers around your apartment. He walks in until he's in your room and you follow him.

He drops onto your bed so he's propped up on one elbow with his arms stretched lazily while his eyes are fixed on you.

"Morning" he says. His voice is low but carries that tone you're able to decipher. The one that tells you he's not in the best mood.

You swallow and fumble a little with your hair. "Morning... uh, you came by early."

He hums and tilts his head while eyes subtly narrow. "Yeah... you didn't answer your phone or texts. I figured I'd check in." His gaze lingers on your face like he's cataloging your expression. "So... tell me. How was your date?"

You shift nervously, curling your fingers around the hem of your shirt. "It was... nice. Really nice, actually. Jimin's sweet and funny... we have a lot in common. He... uh, took me to dinner. It was fun."

Jungkook's lips press together in a thin and there's a tightness in his jaw. He leans back slightly on the bed but his eyes never leave yours. He scans every detail on your face and in your body language.

You hesitate for a heartbeat then nervously let out the next words. "...And... he came up to my apartment after. We... we dry humped a little. And, um... he ate me out."

The second you say that , you notice the faintest stiffening of his body and the way his eyes darken a little.

"Mm," he murmurs. His voice is deceptively calm but there's an edge to it now. "I see."

You fidget, realizing your stomach has twisted. "I'm sorry I... I didn't see your messages, I didn't -"

He raises a hand, halting you mid-sentence and tilts his head. "Yeah, I can see that." His tone is low but there's a weight to his voice, like he's both processing everything you just told him . "So... you had fun with him."

"Yeah, I guess I did..."

Jungkook's watching you, still leaning back against the headboard with one arm draped across lazily but the tension in the set of his shoulders gives him away. You don't really notice it but he's quite pissed.

"Right," he says finally. "Nice. Good." He shifts a little and lets out a breath . "Interesting choice, bringing him up here, though. Didn't think you'd be that... adventurous."

You bite your lip, suddenly nervous. "I... I didn't mean anything by it. It's just-"

Your words falter the second his eyes lock onto yours again. The lazy way he's been sitting disappears as he straightens, swings his legs off the bed and stands, the mattress creaks as his weight shifts. You tilt your chin up automatically and shit, he's right there now, close enough that you can smell his cologne still lingering from earlier. That warm, woodsy scent that always clings to your sheets even after he leaves.

"Repeat that," he says lower than before. "What he did to you."

You blink at him. "W-what?"

"Say it." His jaw flexes once. "You said he ate you out. Tell me."

Your mouth goes dry. You want to snap back, to tell him he's out of line but the way his eyes pin you in place with that mix of irritation and heat makes your voice shrink to a whisper.

"He... went down on me..."

Jungkook exhales slowly through his nose then his hand slides up the side of your neck, choking you slightly. Just enough pressure to make you shiver and he nudges you a step back until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

"You really thought math boy could do what I do?" His tone is almost conversational but his fingers are already trailing down your arm before landing down at the waistband of your silky shorts. "Huh?"

"I didn't -" You swallow. "It's not like that-"

He doesn't let you finish. With a small, deliberate push he bends you forward so your palms catch on the mattress. He's right behind you, his body heat rolling over you and you feel your pulse spike as he undoes his belt with one hand. The sound of the buckle coming loose fills the room.

His hand lingers at your waist before sliding lower, hooking into your shorts. He drags the silky fabric and your panties down, baring you to him completely. The cool air brushes your skin, making your thighs tremble.

Then comes the hard smack. His palm lands square across your ass. You gasp, your knees threatening to buckle but his grip on your hip steadies you.

He slaps your ass again, harder this time. "Tsk," Jungkook mutters under his breath. "Letting him put his mouth on you like that."

Your body jolts with every time he delivers another smack to you. The shame and heat tangles together until you can't tell if you want to cry or moan. He smacks you one last time and the sting lingers. His voice is rough when it breaks the silence.

"Do you want me, Y/N?"

Your breath hitches. The words get caught in your throat but the grip he still has on your hip tightens.

"...Yes."

"Say it again."

"Yes, I want you Jungkook." you breathe, your voice is small but desperate.

"That's my girl." His tone softens just enough to make your stomach flip.

He pulls you upright so your back is pressed against his chest for a moment. He pulls you toward the chair in the corner of your room. He drops into it with his legs spread wide and he manhandles you right onto his lap so you're straddling him.

You gasp at the sudden shift, hands clutching at his shoulders for balance. His cock is hard beneath you in his jeans, pressing insistently against your bare heat. His hands clamp down on your hips, grinding you onto him just the way he wants.

"Feel that?" he growls against your ear, his breath is hot against your skin. "That's what grinding's supposed to feel like. Not that pathetic shit he probably did."

You whimper, your thighs already quivering as he rocks you against him. The friction is delicious and maddening even his jeans are a bit rough against your sensitive skin. He doesn't even let you set the rhythm. He controls every movement of your hips.

You can't stop the moan that slips out, your head tipping back. He watches you with hooded eyes and his jaw clenched. Every vein in his forearms standing out as he moves you exactly how he wants.

"Look at you," it comes as a half groan, half taunt. "Already dripping on me and I haven't even fucked you yet. Tell me, baby. Who's the only one that can make you this wet?"

"Y-you... "you stammer, your voice breaking on a moan.

"That's right," he grits, pulling your hips down harder, making you grind against the solid length of him until you're whimpering from the overwhelming sensation. "Me. Not him. Not anyone."

His grip on your hips eases just enough for one of his hands to slip lower. His fingers trail down your inner thigh and the pads of them brush over your bare skin in teasing strokes that make you squirm. He grazes between your thighs but never giving you exactly what you want.

"Already so warm," he mutters as his lips brush the side of your neck. You shiver when he finally parts you with two fingers, spreading the slickness that's already gathered.

"Wow. Didn't even take much, did it?"

Your breath catches as his middle finger circles lazily over your clit. Enough to make your hips jerk forward against his hand.

"Jungkook..." You grip his shoulders tighter and bury your face against the curve of his jaw, desperate for more pressure.

He chuckles low in his chest and the sound vibrates against your skin. "Say it properly." His finger go lower, sliding through your fold. They dip just slightly inside before he pulls them back out. The teasing is maddening. "Tell me what you want."

"I... I want you inside me," you whimper. "Please."

"You think you deserve it after letting him put his mouth on you?" His tone is laced with annoyance but his fingers still toy with your entrance, smearing your wetness across your inner thighs. "Hmm?"

You shake your head quickly, shame flooding through you. "No... no, I don't ."

"Yes, you don't. " he says, almost tenderly before sinking one finger into you without warning. You gasp loudly, your walls clench down around him as his thumb finds your clit again.

He moves slow at first, pumping his single finger in and out, curling it to make your back arch. When he adds a second finger, your legs feel weak. He clamps his free arm around your waist, holding you steady as he works you open.

"Ah-Kook." you cry out, biting your lip hard but the sound escapes you anyway.

"That's it," he growls, fingers pistoning faster, his thumb still circles over your clit.

"Jungkook-" Your head drops forward, moaning his name over and over as the pleasure builds in your stomach. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers working inside you filling the room.

You're already so close when he suddenly slows down and pulls out his fingers torturously, keeping them buried to the knuckle while his thumb still teases you. You whine, hips grinding desperately against his hand.

"Please," you beg, voice breaking. "Please, I need more-"

Your hands go down to start unzipping his pants. He's hard against your palm.But before you can slip your hand inside, he grips tightly on your wrist. He jerks your hands away, holding them pinned to your thigh.

"You're not getting that today," he says, his voice is rough. "Not after the shit you pulled."

You blink, stunned. "W-what? But-"

He pushes his fingers back into you hard enough to make you cry out, his thumb grinds down mercilessly on your clit. "You don't deserve my cock. You're gonna take what I give you and that's it."

Your lips part around a desperate sob as another wave of pleasurr crashes through you. He keeps his fast and deep pace inside you and soon enough your body jerks as the orgasm rips through you. You clench tightly around his fingers until your vision blurs.

Jungkook's fingers only still when you sag against him. He pulls out slowly, he's coated in your wetness and lifts his hand to his mouth.

You watch as he slides his fingers between his lips, sucking them clean with a low groan like he's savouring the taste. His tongue swirls around each one with his eyes locked on yours.

"Sweet," his lips are glistening. "Always so sweet. Can't believe you wasted this on him."

Before you can reply, his arm wraps around your waist, lifting you up. You squeak in surprise as he places you down on your back on the bed. Your head falling against the mattress while your legs dangle off the edge.

He kneels in front of you, spreading your thighs wide until you're completely exposed to him. The cool air against your slick folds makes you whimper but then his shoulders slot between your knees, his breath hot against your swollen cunt.

Your heart pounds. "Jungkook..."

He glances up at you before he's lowering his mouth to you. His tongue parts your folds in one long lick from your entrance to your clit and you cry out at the sensation. He hums and the vibration buzzes through you, before he drags his tongue back down, dipping inside you like he can't get enough.

"Fuck," he murmurs against you, his voice is muffled. "You're dripping all over my mouth. You like this, don't you? You like me on my knees for you."

Your back arches and your fingers twist tightly in the sheets as he sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub until your thighs threaten to close around his head. But his hands keep them spread wide, holding you down.

"Answer me," he growls between licks, his breath hot against your skin. "Did he make you come?"

N-no," you gasp, your hips jerk against his mouth. "He didn't -ah, Jungkook-"

"That's right." His tongue presses flat against your clit, flicking it in quickly to make your body shudder. "He couldn't. Only I do. Only I can."

Your nails dig into the sheets as he laps at you hungrily. He keeps murmuring between kisses and sucks, every one of his word drag you closer to your release:

"No one else gets you this wet."

"You belong right here with me."

You can barely breathe, your chest is heaving as pleasure coils in your stomach again. He slides two fingers back inside you while his mouth works your clit, curling them just right until you're a shaking mess.

"Come for me, baby," he groans, thrusting his fingers faster.

You cry out his name, thighs trembling around his head as your cunt clenches desperately around his fingers. Jungkook doesn't stop, he fucks you through it with his hand, licking up every drop and moaning into you like you're the best thing he's ever tasted.

When you finally slump back against the mattress, dazed and spent, he licks his lips and wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

"Told you, he rasps, his voice rough. "Nobody else can do this to you."

· · ୨୧ · ·

You're staring at the ceiling like it owes you answers. Your chest is still rising and falling fast. The room smells faintly of Jungkook and well, of you. Your stomach twists in a way that's equal parts satisfaction and frustration.

Why did I even let that happen? you think. I said I was going to stop. I said I was going to end this before it got worse.

You can almost hear your own voice scolding you in your head, but it's drowned out by the memory of his hands, his lips and the way he made you feel completely desperate and owned by him. You groan softly and press your hand against your face.

Jungkook, of course, is lying on his back now. He's shirtless with messy hair, watching you like he's assessing if you're still usable. His thumb brushes along the waistband of your pajama shorts absentmindedly and he smirks at the little crease of frustration between your brows.

"So...You gonna start dating Jimin, or what?"

Your eyes snap to his. He's serious, almost casually curious but you can feel he's trying to gauge if he still has you. If he can keep you coming back for this little... arrangement.

You bite your lip, shaking your head. "No" you whisper.

And it's probably a lie because you do think about Jimin. Sweet, almost nerdy Jimin. The one who's been genuinely kind and attentive over the past few weeks. He makes you laugh, he notices the little things about you and somehow, it makes your chest ache in a completely different way than Jungkook does.

But here Jungkook is sprawled next to you. Looking impossibly calm and edible of course. You curl your knees slightly, tucking them into your chest, hoping he doesn't read the storm in your eyes.

"You sure?" he presses. "Cause... I like knowing I'm the one you're giving this to."

You exhale, a little bitterly and force yourself to smile weakly. "Yeah. Positive."

He leans back, smirking like he's already won the battle in his head. "Great. I don't need some soft nerd stealing you away from me just yet."

You nod but your mind drifts elsewhere.

Maybe Jimin would be nice. Maybe I could... actually have a real boyfriend for once. Someone who doesn't just want my body.

You don't say it out loud and Jungkook doesn't ask again. He's content for now. His ego is sated, his curiosity is atleast partially satisfied. Inside, you're already spinning through the what-ifs, the maybe-laters and the foreign idea of letting yourself care about someone else while keeping Jungkook close.

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

It's been a few days since that night. Things with Jungkook haven't been bad exactly but there's been this heavy silence hanging in the air between you. He still shows up and still texts you but he's been quieter than usual. And not just that, when he fucks you he's rougher than usual. Not that you mind, you do enjoy it. You've just noticed that he isn't as gentle as he usually he is and he doesn't even stick around long after you've hooked up. And honestly? You've missed his annoying little smirks and stupid jokes more than you'd like to admit. So when he texts you randomly at 10PM : "Get dressed. I'm outside." you roll your eyes but can't stop the way your stomach flips.

You climb into his car and he drives you to this little ice cream shop that's still open late. He orders for you without even asking, like he knows your order by heart (he does) and he hands you your cup with a spoon stuck in it.

You both end up walking down the beach, shoes in your hands and the cool sand brushing between your toes. The ocean air is salty and mixed with the sweet smell of your ice cream. The waves lap quietly against the shore and the moon reflects a bright light across the water. For a while, there's just comfortable silence. Just the two of you walking side by side, eating and listening to the waves.

Then Jungkook clears his throat. "Hey..."

You glance at him. "Yeah?"

He's staring straight ahead and his jaw is tight like he's been practising what to say all day. Finally, he exhales and speaks, "I didn't mean to sound like a jerk the other night."

Your spoon pauses halfway to your lips and you blink at him.

"I wasn't mad," he continues, slower this time. "Not... not at you, anyway. I just -" He shakes his head, kicking at the sand. "I don't like the thought of anyone else touching you. It fucks with my head. But that's on me, not you. You don't owe me an explanation for what you do. And I shouldn't have acted like you did."

Your chest tightens. The sincerity in his voice is gentle. "Jungkook..."

He finally looks at you, his eyes seem softened by the glow of the moon. "I'm not mad at you for being with him. I mean it." His lips twitch into a tiny, almost self-deprecating smile. "At least Jimin's a decent guy. "

You can't help but laugh a little, shaking your head. "I guess he is..."

"Tsk. Boring ass Math boy." he says, smirking again - the one you've missed all week.

The mood lightens and the knot in your chest loosens as you walk. You finish your ice cream, toss the empty cup into a nearby trash bin and when you come back to him, Jungkook crouches down infront of you without warning.

"Get on."

You blink. "What?"

He jerks his head at his back. "Come on. You're walking too slow. I'll carry you."

You laugh, smacking his shoulder. "I'm not even walking slow."

"Yes you are." he says, wiggling his shoulders until you roll your eyes and climb on. The moment you wrap your arms around him, he hooks his hands under your thighs and stands like you weigh nothing.

The night air brushes against your face as he walks along the shoreline with you on his back and your cheek pressed against the side of his head. The sound of waves crashing and the feeling of him carrying on his back all feels too perfect.

After a while, you whisper, "You know... you're not half bad when you're not being some territorial jerk."

He huffs a laugh. "Territorial huh?" His grip on your thighs tightens just a little as he holds you closer.

His hair brushes against your cheek as the breeze lifts it and you catch that faint, clean scent of his shampoo mixed with something uniquely him. It's stupid how much comfort you get from something so small. You squeeze your arms a little tighter around his shoulders, feeling his warmth even through his hoodie.

You don't think he notices, he just keeps walking. You bury your face against his shoulder so he won't see your expression. You breath him in like you'll never get another chance.

"You're holding on like a koala." he says, turning his head just enough so that you catch the smirk curving his lips.

Your face heats instantly. "Shut up. I'm not."

"You are," he insists, his voice is warm with amusement. "You got a death grip on me, nerd." He flexes his shoulders dramatically, pretending to shake you off, which makes you squeal and cling to him harder. He laughs at that, the sound is so sweet and boyish it knocks the air out of you.

"You wanna come over after this? I'll make you ramen."

You blink and lift your head up slightly. "At-at your place?"

"Mm." He nods, like it's obvious. "Yeah. You love that spicy one, right? I still have some. We can eat, watch a movie… maybe crash after. Like a sleepover."

Your stomach does a little flip. The part of you that's already gone too far, the part that already loves him, wants to say yes without hesitation. Wants to curl up in his bed and pretend it's something real.

"Wow, ramen and a sleepover? What a romantic date."

He snorts. "Date? Don't flatter yourself." But then his tone softens just a touch, he almost sounds fond. "So? You in or what?"

You want to tell him you're already all in, more than he'll ever know but instead, you mumble, "...Yeah. I'm in."

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

It's about a week since yours and Jungkook's 'sleepover' and now you're standing outside his dorm. You take a deep, shaky breath.

Okay, you can do this. Today is the day you end this.

Your hands fidget with the hem of your sweater as you push open the door, heart hammering in your chest.

The apartment smells faintly like him- clean but still with that subtle hint of his cologne. You can already feel a mix of nerves and irritation bubbling up. I'm stronger than this. I can do this.

You step into the living room then make your way to his bedroom where he is. Jungkook is sprawled across the floor, controller in hand and his eyes are glued to his TV, he's clearly in full gaming mode.

"Hey," he says without looking at you, voice casual. "You can watch, I guess. Just don't touch the snacks."

You roll your eyes and stalk over with determination but that's when your brain completely short-circuits.

On his nightstand... is one of your panties. And next to it is... lube. You freeze. Your jaw drops, your face heats up and your brain goes into overdrive.

Oh. My. God. Did he... did he seriously...?

Jungkook's eyes snap to you and in the fraction of a second, you see the pure, ridiculous embarrassment flicker across his face. He scrambles upright, lunging for the nightstand like it's some ticking time bomb.

"Shit! Uh... it's not what it looks-"

You're already snorting. You're half horrified and half laughing at the way he's practically tackling his own nightstand. He grabs your underwear like it might explode in his hands and shoves them into his hoodie pocket, muttering curses under his breath.

"I didn't - uh... didn't notice you... I mean, I was just-" His words tumble out in a mess and he rubs the back of his neck, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

You can't help it, you burst out laughing. "Oh my God, Jungkook! That is so embarrassing."

He glares at you, though it's half mock-annoyance and half real blush. "Shut up! It's ... it's just... don't look at me like that!"

Your laughter makes the room feel lighter but you also notice the tension in his shoulders as he tosses himself onto the bed, trying to regain composure.

"You're ridiculous." you giggle, leaning against the doorframe.

"Me? No, you're ridiculous." he shoots back, voice muffled by the hoodie he's now clutching over his face.

You shake your head, still smiling but deep down, you feel that little pang of longing. This is exactly why you need to end things with him. He's starting to feel a little too much like home...

Meanwhile Jungkook mutters something about video games being safer than real life as he starts fidgeting with the controller again while still being red-faced.

You plant yourself in front of him, blocking his view of the screen. Your arms are crossed and you give him your most determined glare. "We need to talk." you declare.

Jungkook doesn't even glance at you, his thumbs fly over the controller like the fate of the universe depends on it. "Mm-hmm." he hums with his eyes glued to the screen.

You huff and step closer, blocking more of the screen. "Nope. Not going anywhere until we talk."

He groans, muttering under his breath, "Seriously? Right now?"

You tilt your head innocently. "Yes. Right now."

And as he tries to nudge you aside, you plant your feet and refuse to budge.

Every move he makes to try and win the game, you stubbornly stay in the way, making his character die again and again...

"Y/N!" he finally growls, frustration and something else like, annoyed amusement bleeds into his tone. "Move!"

You grin mischievously. "Not until you listen!"

That seems to be the last straw. Before you can react, he swoops you up effortlessly, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You squeal, kicking your legs, trying to wriggle free.

"Jungkook! Put me down!"

"Not a chance," He smacks your ass hard enough to make you yelp and you're acutely aware of how firm and warm his hands are. "I think you need a remind on what happens when you annoy me."

You gasp, your cheeks heat as he strides toward his bedroom, each step making your heart hammer a little faster.

Once inside, he gently tosses you onto the bed, straddling your thighs to keep you from escaping. "You were really asking for it, blocking my game like that." he teases, smirking down at you as he presses you back into the mattress.

You squirm under him, a mixture of laughter and mock indignation escaping you. "Jungkook get off me! We need to talk!"

You're still giggling under him, he grins and leans down to nip at your jaw.

"You think you're funny huh?"

He nips at your jaw again, playful and teasing and you can't help but giggle, the sound tumbling out before you can stop it.

Your laughter fades as he suddenly pins both of your hands above your head with one of his strong hands, the other holds you in place. Your chest rises quickly and your heart hammers in your chest .

He hovers over you, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. The teasing nips turn into soft sucking and your body instantly melts beneath him.

You let out a soft, involuntary moan and your eyes squeeze shut. Oh god... You weren't expecting that.

"Mm... there it is." he murmurs against your skin, a deep rumble in his chest. His hands tighten just slightly on your wrists, holding you completely in his control and your mind goes blank.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back more sounds but it's impossible. Every suck of his tongue makes you tremble and arch into him without even realizing it.

His eyes flick up at you briefly, seeing your reaction and a slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. "You like that?" he whispers, his voice husky.

You can only whimper in response. His lips move teasingly over every spot he knows will make you're sensitive.

Your soft whimpers become needier when his mouth finds yours. The kiss is sloppy and desperate, to the point your teeth collide with his. He tastes like mint and the faint sweetness of soda, and you can't get enough.

He finally frees your hands from  his grip and they fly straight to his hoodie to tug at the fabric. His mouth drags away from yours just long enough for him to pull it over his head.

You sit up on your elbows, then a little higher. You stare at him for a long time, admiring him. He looks so hot like this.

The corner of his mouth curves knowingly.  "What?"

Before you can answer, he leans back in.

Now you're sitting upright, knees brushing his thighs and he's on his knees in front of you. One of his hands slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up so his mouth can claim yours again. This kiss is deeper, his tongue slides against yours. You sigh into his mouth and your fingers curl behind his neck to pull him closer without even thinking.

His lips linger for one last kiss before he pulls back and his forehead brushes against yours. .

"Take these off." he murmurs, tugging lightly at the waistband of your jeans.

You lift your hips without protest, letting him undo the buttons. His eyes never fully leave yours, even as he slides the denim down your legs. As he peels the jeans past your knees, he dips his head to press a soft kiss to the inside of your thighs, his gaze flickers up at you through his lashes with a crooked little smile.

He tosses your jeans aside once they're off but not before pressing one last kiss just above your knee.

He sits back on his heels just long enough to tug his sweats down. The fabric slides off, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers. The sight of him like that makes your throat dry.

"Eyes up here, nerd." he teases you, though his own eyes flicker down your body just as hungrily.

He moves back down, crowding into your space until his knees bracket yours again. His hands slide up your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. He bends to kiss you as he pushes the fabric higher, his mouth is soft coaxing against yours while he undresses you.

Once your shirt is off, you're left in just your bra. His lips find yours again instantly, almost like he cannstand the thought of not kissing you for longer than a second. One of his hands coasts up your spine until his fingers reach the clasp of your bra.

He kisses you deeper while his other hand tips your jaw, holding you in place. Your breath stutters when you feel him unclasping your bra.

His palms slide lower, cupping you through your panties and the second his fingers rub against you, you gasp against his mouth. He feels your wetness already seeping through and a groan rumbles in his chest.

"You're soaked." he mutters against your lips as he continues rubbing slow circles over the thin fabric of your underwear.

You slide your hand down between you, pushing past the waistband of his boxers until your fingers find his cock. His hips jerk forward instantly and this time it's his turn to choke out a moan that's deep and needy against your tongue.

The kiss gets messier and wetter. Both of you groaning into each other's mouths as you stroke him and he keeps rubbing you in return.

"I wanna suck your dick." you whisper desperately between kisses.

He has that cocky little spark in his eyes, even while his voice drops an octave. "Yeah? Too bad, baby. Cause I'm eating you out first." His fingers rub harder, making you jolt and whimper.

You huff a laugh, tugging at him harder. "No. I'm going first."

"Not happening." He kisses you again, fierce and quick. "You don't get to argue with me on this one."

Your fingers squeeze around him, earning you another low groan and you smirk against his mouth. "Then how about… we go together?"

That makes him pause with his eyes locked on yours. A slow grin spreads across his face like he just discovered his new favourite game.

"Fuck yeah."

He leans back just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. The fabric stretches as he pushes it down. He kicks them away carelessly. His jaw tightens as he watches your eyes drop, the sight of you drinking him in makes his cock twitch.

Before you can even reach for him, his hands are sliding down your hips. His fingers curl into the band of your panties. He peels them down your thighs and his knuckles brush your skin and he kisses along the path as he goes.

Once you're both naked, you get into position. You take a shaky breath, your knees on the bed as your hips hover just above his neck. His cock is already hard, just beneath your lips. He's dripping with pre-cum and the thought of tasting him makes your stomach flutter. He watches you as you guide yourself down carefully until your mouth is wrapped around him.

"God... fuck, baby." he groans immediately, tilting his hips to meet your movements.

As you take him in and feel him pulse lightly in your mouth, your hands grip his thighs for support. He's impossibly warm and the thought of giving him a mind blowing orgasm makes your head spin.

Without hesitation, he moves closer to let his face dip between your legs. His tongue finds your clit instantly, flicking and swirling as his lips part, groaning against you. Your hips rock instinctively, pressing down into his mouth, and you moan around his cock, muffled but needy.

The wet, messy sounds fill the small room – The slick squelches of his tongue on you, the low hums of pleasure from your lips around him. He hums and moans into you. The vibrations make your knees wobble slightly.

You tilt your head slightly, adjusting so you can take him deeper and he groans louder. His hips shift to meet your pace. His tongue slides over your folds, flicking your clit and the way he uses his fingers to part you more makes you gasp and moan in your own mouth, muffled against him.

"You taste so fucking good, baby..." he groans, his voice is ragged. One of his hand slide up to grip your hip, keeping you steady while the other moves to caress your ass.

You respond in kind, twirling your tongue faster, dragging your lips over the underside of him, feeling him twitch and pulse as he fucks your mouth slowly. The dual sensations , the pressure of him on your tongue and the teasing friction of his mouth on you make you dizzy.

He hums against you, licking and sucking. You feel him shudder as he groans, "Oh... fuck... so good... can't-can't get enough of you."

Muffled sounds fill the room as you take him deeper, loving the feeling of his hardness against your lips. The pleasure you're giving each other makes your knees tremble.

You let your hands roam, cupping his balls lightly, stroking his thighs and taking him deeper. He does the same, his fingers tangle in your hair as he alternates between licking and sucking.

"You're so fucking perfect," he groans, his mouth moving in rhythm with yours.

You whimper around him, your face flushed and hair damp against your forehead.

His room is filled with his groans and your moans of pleasure. The slurp of your mouth around him and the wet suck of his lips on your clit. You feel him stiffen suddenly in your mouth, his thighs tense and then he's groaning loud against you as he releases down your throat.

At the same time, your body convulses. His tongue swirls at your clit until you're gasping, trembling. Soon you're also releasing in his mouth. Your hips jerk, grinding down against his face. He groans as your wetness coats his tongue and chin.Neither of you stop. He keeps licking and you keep sucking. Both of you sre trembling, lost in overstimulation...

He finally pulls you up, his hands gripping your waist firmly and before you can catch your breath, he brings you over his lap, so you're just hovering above him. His mouth crashes into yours in a deep and desperate kiss. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, mixed with the taste of yourself from his lips.

"Fuck, baby," he whispers against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. "You're unreal."

"Yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah." he agrees instantly.

He leans back against the headboard, his strong thighs are spread beneath you. His hands frame your hips as he guides you down.

You sink onto him slowly, stretching around his thick length. The fullness makes your eyes flutter shut. Your lips part as a shaky and loud gasp escapes you. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush against him until you're seated fully, so his cock is buried deep inside.

"Look at me" he murmurs, lifting your chin with his thumb. His gaze is steady. You do as he says, and he kisses you again slowly, while you start to move.

You rise and sink on him, his mouth doesn't leave yours. Every thrust is accompanied by a kiss and he holds you like you're something precious, like you're not just fucking but being... Loved?

And that's when it hits you –The intimacy and the tenderness hidden under all the lust. Your chest tightens painfully and without realising, tears slip down your cheeks.

He pulls back, his eyes widening slightly. "Hey-" his voice is rough, concerned, "Why are you crying?"

You blink quickly and shake your head even though your heart's hammering.

"I-it's nothing, Kook. Just... You just feel so good." The lie comes out but you can't tell him the truth...That you're already mourning him.

He studies you for a long moment, as if he knows there's more but he doesn't push. Instead, he leans in and kisses the tears from your cheeks. That makes your throat ache even more.

"Shh... don't cry, baby" he whispers against your skin, holding you tighter.

Your thighs tremble as you ride him, sinking down on his cock again and again. Every thrust drags a broken moan from your lips. Jungkook's head falls back against the headboard. His throat is tight and sweat glints on his skin. His hands grip your waist like he's holding on for dear life, guiding your rhythm even though you're both already so close.

"Ah-baby," he groans, his voice cracking as his hips jerk up harder into you. "I'm not... I'm not gonna last."

You feel him throbbing inside you,  stretching you so deep you swear he's in your stomach. The thought of him cumming pushes you even closer. Heat coils low in your belly, your walls clench around him like it doesn't want to let go.

"I-fuck," he curses, squeezing his eyes shut, "I need to pull out. Gonna-"

"No," you cut him off, breathless. Your hands frame his jaw, forcing him to look at you. Your chest is heaving and your lips are trembling. "It's okay. I'm on the pill. You can... come inside me."

His eyes fly open, wide and disbelieving. "Really? You want me to-"

"Yes. I want you to. " you whisper. You really want to feel him release inside of you, even though you know it's risky. But you also want to feel that intimacy, the trust and the way it makes this feel more than just sex.

For a moment he just stares at you, like he's trying to figure out if you really mean it. Then his grip on your hips tightens almost painfully.

"Fuck, baby..." he growls, slamming up into you harder and deeper. "

You moan loudly, clinging to his shoulders as his cock thrusts sloppily into you over and over, hitting every spot perfectly. The tension in your stomach snaps and you're releasing. Your walls flutter around him as you cum hard and your nails dig into his skin.

Your orgasm drags him under with you. With a strangled groan, Jungkook buries himself as deep as he can go and holds you flush against him. His whole body tenses as he spills inside you, filling you until you can feel it dripping out around him.

"Shit-fuck, baby-" he groans against your mouth, kissing you through it, his tongue tangles with yours as he keeps cumming.

When he finally eases his thrusts and pulls back just enough to look at you, his chest is heaving and his hair is damp with sweat. He presses his forehead to yours.

"First time I've ever..." he breathes out, swallowing hard, "...fuck, you let me cum in you."

Your heart twists painfully, because you know what this means to you but you can't let it show. You just smile faintly, brushing sweaty strands from his face.

"Yeah," you whisper softly, like it's not the heaviest thing you've ever allowed.

For a long moment, neither of you move. You're still trembling around him, his cock softens slowly inside you. Both of you clinging like you don't want to let go. Your foreheads are against each other and your laughter is low and breathless. The kind that comes from sheer exhaustion but also from something terrifyingly deeper.

Finally, Jungkook chuckles again. His voice is husky. "One more."

You blink up at him, still trying to catch your breath. "Jungkook-"

"Come on," he murmurs, lips brushing yours as he whispers against your mouth. His thumb strokes over your hipbone, comforting. "Just one more round, baby. Please."

You know you should refuse. You came here tonight to end this, not to sink deeper. But your body betrays you. The thought of one last time with him is too much to walk away from.

So you just nod and that's all he needs. He kisses you before carefully pulling out.

You gasp at the mess between your thighs. The sensation of being so full of him still lingers but before you can think about it too long, he's guiding you down onto the bed.

"Lie back for me," he says softly, almost tenderly, as he settles between your legs.

You obey, sinking into the sheets with your heart pounding. He leans over you, bracing himself on his forearms as he lines himself up.

When he pushes back into you, the stretch is deep and perfect. You moan and he swallows the sound with a kiss.

He sinks into you fully, letting you feel every inch of him. Each one of his thrusts fills you so thoroughly. He gazes down at you, his eyes are soft in a way that makes it hard for you to breathe.

"Arms up," he murmurs, breaking the kiss just long enough to lift your wrists. He guides your hands up and around his neck, locking them there like he doesn't ever want you to let go. "Hold onto me."

You do. Your fingers tangle in his damp hair and your arms tighten around him as he starts to move again. His strokes have your back arching off the mattress. His smile curves faintly, almost boyish but his eyes are different. There's something adoring in the way he looks at you, something that makes it impossible for you to look away.

Every thrust of his hips drags a moan out. His mouth trails from your jaw to your throat to your lips again. His pace builds gradually, never losing the depth and hitting you exactly where you need him. The iintimacy of everything makes your chest tighten painfully.

You cling harder to him. Your nails drag against his skin and your breath catches. "Jungkook..."

"Yeah, baby?" he whispers against your lips, his thrusts becoming deeper. "Feel good?"

"So good," you whimper as your  eyes start fluttering shut.

"No," he says. . His forehead presses to yours and his thrusts are angled perfectly to make you shudder. "Look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

Your lashes flutter open and when your eyes lock with his, the intensity of it almost undoes you right there. He smiles softly, almost lovingly, while fucking you deeper and deeper. Your bodies are slick with sweat and your breaths mingle.

The bed creaks with the rhythm of his hips but neither of you break eye contact. It feels like he's looking right into your soul. Like this is more than sex. Like he's branding himself into you.

Your climax builds slowly, winding tighter and tighter until you're a whimpering mess beneath him, unable to hold it in. He sense it and he pulls back just enough to adjust. He slips his hands under your thighs and pushes your legs up, draping them over his shoulders.

The new angle is brutal. He thrusts into you deeper than ever before. It's so deep that you cry out. Your hands claw at the sheets above you, as his cock hits that spot inside you over and over.

"Y/N" he groans, his eyes raking over your face and your trembling body. "No one would ever feel like you."

Your walls clamp down around him and your voice break on his name as you fall apart. Your orgasm hitting you violently. You sob out his name, your legs shaking against his shoulders as he drives you through it, chasing his own release.

His thrusts turn erratic and his head falls back as his muscles tighten. With a strangled groan, he buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you again. He keeps moving, grinding his release into you while you're still trembling, still writhing from the aftershocks.

When he finally collapses forward, pressing his forehead to yours, both of you are shaking, sweaty and completely spent but neither of you let go if each other . His lips brush yours in small, lingering kisses, his smile faint but unmistakable.

"Fuck," he pants, chest heaving. "That... was insane."

Your throat tightens but you force a weak smile, running your fingers through his damp hair. "Yeah," you whisper. "It was."

Deep down, you know it wasn't just insane. It's everything you're about to give up that is. The knowledge makes your chest ache harder than any orgasm ever could.

Your limbs feel boneless. You're sprawled against tangled sheets that are damp with sweat and... more. Jungkook's arm is draped loosely around your waist, his breath is warm on your temple, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you. Neither of you talk for a long while.

He presses a lazy kiss to your hairline, then another along your temple and. his lips curve against your skin.

"Shower with me?" he murmurs, his voice rough with exhaustion.

You smile faintly, turning your head to catch his mouth for a soft and tired kiss.

"I can't even feel my legs right now," you mumble against his lips, laughing weakly. "I'm too weak to stand."

That makes him grin, his teeth grazing your lower lip before he pulls back, brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face. "Guess I did my job right, huh?" he teases, but his eyes soften almost instantly. "Okay. Don't move. I got you."

You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he climbs out of bed, completely naked. He pads toward the bathroom and flicks the light on. The sound of running water fills the quiet room and a few moments later, you smell the subtle scent of his soap in the air.

He comes back to the doorway and crooks a finger at you. "Come on, baby. I ran us a bath."

Your chest squeezes at the casual tenderness in his voice. You gather enough strength to slip out of bed, wrapping a sheet loosely around yourself before padding toward him. He tugs it away as soon as you step into the bathroom, grinning when you gasp.

"Don't need this."

The tub is already steaming, water foaming slightly with bubbles. Jungkook sinks into it first, leaning back with a satisfied sigh before looking at you expectantly. "Get in."

You bite your lip, pretending to hesitate but you're already climbing in. He opens his arms, guiding you down until your back rests against his chest, your body fitting perfectly between his legs. His arms wrap around you instantly, warm and protective. His chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

The water laps at your skin, heat easing the ache in your muscles. You melt back into him with a content sigh and your eyes flutter shut. Jungkook kisses the curve of your shoulder softly, then your damp hair and then the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Better?" he asks.

"Mhm," you hum, your fingers brushing against his tattooed arm where it wraps tight around your waist. "Much better."

He holds you tighter, his thumbs drawing lazy circles into your skin under the water.

You let yourself sink into it, knowing you shouldn't, knowing this makes it harder to walk away. But in this moment, with his heartbeat steady against you and his breath tickling your ear, you let yourself pretend that this is more than just one last night.

You shift slowly in the water, twisting in his arms until you're chest to chest, straddling his lap under the warm surface. The sheet of bubbles swirls between you as you settle, your thighs brushing his under the water.

Jungkook's hands instinctively find your waist to steady you and his lips curve into a lazy grin. "Comfortable?" .

You hum softly in response, laying your cheek against his shoulder, the steady beat of his heart under your ear grounds you. The warmth of the bath and the solidness of him makes you feel like you could melt right into him.

After a moment, you feel movement. His arm reaches for the little cup resting on the edge of the tub. He scoops water into it and tilts it over your back, letting the heat cascade down your skin in rivulets. You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as your muscles loosen.

"Mm, that feels good," you murmur, content.

He chuckles low in his chest and does it again. The water trickles down your spine and his free hand rubs soothing circles into your lower back.

"Spoiled. " he says lightly, though there's no real bite to it.

You lift your head just enough to meet his eyes, your fingertips tracing absent-mindedly over his chest. Your touch is featherlight and reverent, like you're trying to memorize the feel of him.

He tilts his head, his eyes soften as he watches you. For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence is thick but not uncomfortable. It feels... intimate.

"You're staring," his lips twitch into a smile and his gaze lingers on yours like he doesn't want to look away.

"Am I not allowed to?" you whisper back as your nails grazing lightly down his chest.

He exhales a laugh before leaning forward to press a kiss to your damp forehead. His hand cups the back of your neck, keeping you close, while the other tips more water over your back. It's like he wants to take care of you in his own quiet way.

You sigh again, sinking into his chest and wishing you could freeze this moment.

After a while in the bath, the two of you finally step out. The steam clings to your skin as Jungkook hands you one of his sweatpants and loose t-shirts.

"Here, these should fit."

You nod, taking the clothes and retreating behind the bathroom door to change, the fabric is soft against your damp skin. Meanwhile, you hear him moving around the room stripping the ruined sheets from the bed, tossing them into the laundry basket with a grunt and sliding fresh ones on. He hums quietly to himself, the sound is oddly domestic and a small smile tugs at your lips.

Finally, he slips into bed and pats the empty side and holds the blanket open for you. "Come on," he says, voice softening. "Get in. We can... just lie here."

You peek out hesitantly and tug at the hem of your shirt. "I... I need to go" you murmur, your voice is barely audible.

He looks up at you and one of eyebrows shoot up. "Wait-what?" His smirk fades slightly, replaced by confusion and a flicker of disappointment. "You're leaving? Now?"

You bite your lip, nodding your head. "Yeah... I really need to."

He sits back on his heels, clearly trying to mask how bummed he is.

"Okay... if you really want to." His voice is quieter now and almost reluctant. "Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?"

"No, no. It's fine," you say quickly, tugging on the waistband of your pants.

He watches you for a moment, his gaze is intense but unreadable. He leans back against the pillow. "Right... Uh I remember you wanted to talk to me too, huh?"

You freeze and he shifts slightly to look at you, waiting. "I... I forgot," you admit sheepishly while avoiding his eyes.

Jungkook lets out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I see... "

You grab your bag and step toward the door, glancing back at him. He doesn't move ordoesn't call you back but the way he watches you leave makes your stomach guilt.

The door clicks softly behind you, leaving him in the quiet room with his sheets now perfectly arranged but looking smaller somehow without you next to him...

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

It's been three days since you last left your dorm.You haven't even gone to a single lecture. Sophia has been your lifeline, snapping pictures of some the notes you missed, occasionally dropping off little care packages and snacks when she could. You've stayed wrapped up in your blanket cocoon, scrolling through your phone and trying not to think too much about the world outside or Jungkook. You haven't seen him in a while either and even though your phone constantly buzzed with messages from him, you ignored them. Not out of cruelty, just... self-preservation. You didn't want to deal with him right now.

On the third day of your absence, a new message popped up: Can I come over?

Your stomach clenches. You haven't been planning to respond, but... you needed closure or at least to set boundaries. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a long moment before you start typing.

Jungkook, listen... I've been thinking. I don't want to hook up with you anymore. I think it's better if you just leave me alone. I'd actually prefer it if you don't try to come see me or anything. I need some space away from you.

You re-read the message twice before hitting send. Your heart hammers as if it has a say in all of this.

After sending it, you set your phone aside and exhale. The tension in your chest loosens slightly. It's a small victory but it feels like reclaiming a little piece of yourself.

For the first time in days, you let yourself curl up under your blanket and close your eyes, hoping that whatever came next, you'll still be able to stick to your decision...

                        · · ♡ · ·

Jungkook lies on his bed, one arm propping up his head and the other lazily draped across the sheets. His mind is wandering, like it always does - straight to you. A low chuckle escapes him as he remembers the last time you were over. The way you moaned so loudly, the way your fingers had clawed at his shoulders and how you gasped his name like it was a prayer. Fuck, it had been the best feeling he's had in a long time.

He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed being with you until these few days.

He even went to the pharmacy to get you medication, some snacks he knows you love and soup you mentioned liking a few weeks ago. He was planning to swing by and hand it to you personally. Maybe the two of you could hang out. He'd keep you company and make you smile. He was actually... missing you. And he didn't even know he could feel that way about someone like this.

His phone buzzes next to him. He picks it up, expecting a message from you saying something like a "hey I'm a feeling a bit better, you can come over." text. But no, it's not that ... Not at all.

Jungkook, listen... I've been thinking. I don't want to hook up with you anymore. I think it's better if you just leave me alone. And I'd actually prefer it if you don't try to come see me or anything. I need some space away from you.

He blinks, then blinks again. He reads it once more, slower this time. Hoping and even praying that maybe it had been typed in a weird way, that maybe the meaning would... shift if he just read it enough.

Nope. It's the same message, same words and same devastating implications.

"Space?" he mutters under his breath, the word tasting extremely bitter in his mouth. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

How the fuck? She was fine just the other day, talking about her notes, joking with him in her texts... and now she didn't want him? She wanted... space?

His fingers tap against his phone as if it could magically rewrite itself, change the words and make it all okay. But nothing changed.

"Why the hell now?" he whispers with his extremely voice low... Way too low.

He rubs his face, trying to process. You hadn't even hinted at wanting this. Hell, if anything, you'd been giving him little signals that you wanted more... or at least you acted like you couldn't get enough of him.

Okay yeah, you had that date with that stupid math boy. And you annoyingly let him touch you but you told Jungkook that you weren't interested in dating him or anything. You told Jungkook that you wanted to continue hooking up with him, so what's wrong now?

He leans back against the headboard, letting out a frustrated groan. Part of him wants to ignore it, the other part wants to call you and knock on your door to make you change your mind. But he has to process it first. And fuck... he doesn't like this feeling. He doesn't like it not one bit. His eyes become glassy.